


It Was Only A Kiss

by friendofafriendofme



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Attempted mugging, Avengers Family, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, Kidnapping, Precious Peter Parker, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendofafriendofme/pseuds/friendofafriendofme
Summary: How did it end up like this?In which Spiderman takes a special interest in the reader, and things don't go quite so well.CHAPTER 5 AND 6 HAVE BEEN REWRITTEN!





	1. Comin' Out of My Cage

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever fic!!!! I'm not too great at writing and not sure what I want to do with this yet, so I'll leave it here! Sorry for the grammatical errors and spelling issues but I'm the worst so!!!!

“Goodnight, Mrs. O’Neal!” You call as you untie your apron and wave goodbye to your manager and the few (and far between) patrons in the diner. It’s a Tuesday night at midnight-or you suppose Wednesday at this point- and as expected, the 24-hour diner has fallen nearly silent.  


“Goodnight, sweetie! Get home safe!” Your manager calls from deep within the kitchen, and you exit the building leaving nothing but the tinkling of the bell behind. You’re a sophomore in high school and only fifteen (nearing sixteen!), but you’re allowed to work at the restaurant essentially under the table. And since they don't serve beer, you’re technically not breaking the law. Although working past 10 as a minor is illegal. And you’re barely even a minor, BUT the owner is a college friend of your mother’s and she gave you the job with a wink and a promise of “Don’t worry honey, you’re safe with me” and the rest is history.  


You begin your journey towards your apartment, where your mother is out late, working her usual night shift. You shoulder your backpack, filled with half-finished math homework, your work uniform, and a mostly-forgotten English essay and trudge forward.  


It’s mid-May, which, in Queens, means the temperature is constantly flicking between unbearably hot and frighteningly cold, and you feel thankful that tonight is on the warmer side of things, as your jacket is stowed at the bottom of your backpack; a cushion for the millions of pounds of other things. You let your mind wander as you continue the 10-block journey back home, thinking about the boatload of pizza rolls you’re prepared to make and the boatload of homework that comes with it. You allow yourself a deep sigh, and you’re only a few blocks from your small home when you hear it.  


The dreaded catcall.  


Today had already been annoying enough, your chemistry teacher had given a pop quiz, your math teacher decided you absolutely needed to have an extra test before the final which was THURSDAY, so the test would be WEDNESDAY (yes, the same Wednesday it essentially is RIGHT NOW), oh, and your friend Peter had randomly disappeared halfway through decathlon practice, and MJ nearly lost her mind… AGAIN.  


So this was the icing on the cake.  


You knew you weren’t supposed to turn, or give the guy any attention, so you continued to head forwards, quickening your pace. Except he literally would not stop and you had had it up to here with this nonsense so you turned, your face bright red with anger. And that was immediately a mistake. Someone had reached out from the alley next to you and had wrapped a hand around your mouth, the other pulling you in.  


They forced you against a building, your backpack unable to cushion you as your head smacked against the brick wall and you saw stars for a minute. The mugger had removed the hand from your mouth and had you pinned to the wall, hands on your shoulders and feet hovering about a foot off the ground- you were dazed and confused and your head really hurt.  


“Alright kid, listen closely, gimme all the money you got and if you so much as make a noise I’ll separate that pretty little head from your neck, got it?” The mugger’s voice is deep and gravelly, definitely a dude. You shake the dazedness from your eyes and begin to assess the situation because oh fuck you were being mugged. You really wished you had the pepper spray your brother always tried to convince you to purchase on you right now, because that would be incredibly helpful.  


So, using your potentially concussed brain, you did the only thing you could think to do in the heat of the moment. You took your dominant foot and kicked the guy as hard as you physically could, right where it counted. He faltered for a moment and dropped you, which allowed you to scramble to your feet as he grumbled in pain. You began to jolt forwards, out of the alley, when a rough hand attached to your backpack and you were forced back again. You let out a garbled scream as you began to kick and punch in any given direction, trying to remember a single karate move you had learned in your youth.  


A rough hand was on your mouth again and you were pinned to the wall, eye-level with the mugger, who was somewhere over 6-feet tall and you were definitely a couple inches shorter than that. You saw the anger in his eyes as he knocked you against the wall again, your head spinning. You felt a slash along your arm and you screamed at the pain. The mugger moved his hand from your mouth to around your neck and you began to flail.  


'Holy shit,' You thought to yourself, in a moment of pure clarity in the madness, 'I am going to die right now.' You began to thrash again, feeling the blood vessels pop and the bruises forming around your neck. “What the hell did I say, kid?” The mugger grumbled, his knife poised above your chest.  


“You can’t fault her for that!” Another voice cried, the knife was knocked out of the mugger’s hand and he looked around in confusion. “You didn’t say Simon Says first!” The voice continued, and suddenly you could breathe again. You fell into something soft as you gasped for air, half-convinced your vocal chords had been severed. Oh sweet, sweet oxygen! I will never take you for granted again. You thought to yourself. Someone was saying something but it sounded distant, and you opened your eyes to look right into the robotic whites of…  
Spider-Man.  


You took a few deep, gasping, scratchy breaths and shot up, fumbling for the water bottle in your backpack. You greedily drank from it, feeling someone hovering close behind. Every sip was heaven on earth as you practically stopped breathing to inhale the liquid gold. You finished off the water bottle and then sat for a moment, replaying everything in your head.  


"A-are you okay, miss?” A hesitant voice questioned from above. You looked up, again straight into the hero of Queen’s’ eyes. His robotic eyes seemed to blink at you and his head was cocked, like a confused puppy. He seemed so innocent in this one moment, not like the menace the papers were making him out to be.  


"Y-yeah.” You venture, your voice scratchy and hoarse. You think you see him wince a bit, but everything is blurry so you can’t be too sure. “I-I thi-think I’m o-okay.” You hear the waver in your own voice, you feel the tears beginning to pool in your eyes, but you bite them back. You’re not going to cry in front of the Spiderman.  


"Okay,” He nods slowly, crouching down next to you. “Hey, it’s okay to be upset.” His voice is soft and caring, you feel somewhat at ease. “What’s your name?” He questions soothingly.  


"Y/N.” You reply shortly, your mouth on autopilot as you focus all your energy on trying not to cry.  


"Okay, Y/N,” your name rolls off his tongue, it all feels so familiar. “Let’s call the police, okay?” You nod at him, slipping your phone out and dialing 9-1-1. You speak into the phone without thinking, and suddenly the sounds of sirens fill your ears.  


You panic.  


"Idontwannabehereanymore.” You speak all in one breath, beginning to gasp for air again. You feel like you’re being choked all over again and your hands fly to your neck, squeezing the bruises that are already there. The tears begin to spill because god dammit you had almost been murdered in an alleyway and everything hurt, and in about a second this was going to be a full on crime scene.  


"Hey, hey. It’s okay… uh… don’t cry.” Hands pull away your grasping arms and settle gently around you, pulling you in for a hug. You let yourself sob into freaking Spider-Man’s chest, feeling his even breathing and his arms, tight around you begins to calm you, however. “How about I walk you home?” He asks soothingly. You nod into his chest and he releases you.  


It's become cold now.  


The hero eases your backpack off of your back and shoves it on his own. You begin the slow shuffle forward, towards your home. You then notice the man- now webbed to the brick wall- who had almost killed you only seconds before. You shudder, noticing he's unconscious. The sirens grow louder, overpowering your senses, but you shake it off. You pick up the pace. 

You sniffle a little as you walk back, nervousness fills the air, and you taste blood on your lips. You continue forward, Spider-Man by your side. The chilled silence is beginning you choke you all over again.  


"I don’t usually cry this much.” You try, casually, laughing gruffly at the weak joke, anything to keep yourself from reliving that moment.  


“Oh man, I was hoping you wouldn't say something like that, because I usually do.” He counters just as casually, and you grin a bit, bumping his shoulder slightly as though you’re old friends.  


“Really?” You question. “Because I always figured you were a crier anyways.” You tease. He turns to look at you, his eyes wide.  


“The truth really does hurt.” He puts his hand against his heart and staggers a bit, causing you to laugh warmly. He seems satisfied with that and continues the journey.  


“So does being mugged.” You blurt out, and both of you begin to laugh, somehow. It’s easy being by Spiderman’s side, it’s warm and familiar and comfortable. It seems so… normal.  


Without knowing it, you’re back home again. In your completely empty apartment. Spiderman is standing in the doorway awkwardly, backpack still half-slung over his shoulder as he looks around at your living space. Your face goes bright red as you realize the gravity of the situation and you lunge forward, snatching your backpack and shoving it halfway through the door to your room.  


“I should call my mom.” You mumble, losing any bit of wit you carried upon re-realizing the gravity of the situation. He cocks his head at you again, and you continue to avoid eye contact at all costs. You see him, conflicted, standing in the doorway. You dial your mom’s cell number and a millennium seems to pass before she picks up.  


“Hey sweetie, what’s up?” Your mother asks, the hustle and bustle of the hospital surrounds her, and you can see her, standing in the hallway, scrubs and gloves on as she smiles into the phone, happy for a break in between patients.  


“Mom-“ Your voice cracks and the tears begin to flow again.  


“Sweetie,” Her voice is serious. “What’s wrong?” She asks, her voice somehow feeling closer than it had seconds prior. You sigh through your nostrils and blink away tears.  


“I just got mugged…” You trail off. “And I’m scared.” Your voice cracks again, tears running haphazard trails down your cheeks. Your mom isn’t even quiet for a moment.  


“Oh my god are you okay? Do you need the hospital? Are you safe? What happened? Sweetie, oh my god-“ She’s moving a mile a minute, her breaths gasping as she continues the call.  


“C-Can you j-just… come home.” You sob. The phone call ends with her saying she’ll be home in thirty minutes. You put the phone down and lean on the table for support.  


“Hey, it’ll be okay.” You jump at the voice. Oh right… Spiderman, you cringe at the tearful phone conversation he had more than likely overheard. “Here, I’ll wait until your mom gets back, okay?” He enters the apartment and closes the door tightly behind him, locking it. You’re grateful for the company, but unsure of exactly what to do. This guy was friends with The Avengers. What were you supposed to do with that?  


He moves deftly around your kitchen, handing you a glass of water and guiding you towards the couch. You sit down and pat the seat beside you without a second thought. He sits.  


You and Spiderman. Just silently sitting on your couch.  


Neither of you say a word, but you find his presence comforting. He is strong and unwavering. He is a real, alive being who has done nothing but protect you so far. At some point you must fall asleep, because when you wake again your mother is holding you tight to her chest and examining your bruised neck, black eye, and split lip. She’s crying as she works, and you turn to the side nonchalantly, noticing a scrap of paper with scribbled writing.  


"We’ll meet again soon. Until then, stay safe. XOXO, your friendly neighborhood Spiderman."


	2. And They're Going To Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've found a direction.... we shall see. enjoy!

The next day you are not in school, and Peter is tired. Yes, Peter has generally been coming to school more tired the past few months, but today he is ‘falling asleep in Chemistry mid-web fluid making’ tired. Ned notices immediately, and wonders what could be plaguing his brunette friend. He can’t help but be a bit excited to hear about his late-night adventures.

“Hey dude, are you okay?” Ned questions, poking Peter’s face as they wander into the lunchroom. Peter is essentially falling asleep standing up, mumbling a half-witted response to the question, practically leaning on his friend for support. Ned chuckles despite himself. “Wow, I can’t believe Spider-Man is about to pass out on my shoulder in the middle of the hall.” 

Peter quickly rights himself and looks around nervously. “Dude! SHHHHHHHHH!” He shoves Ned’s shoulder playfully and the two arrive at the table they usually share with you and MJ. Ned watches his friends’ expression darken slightly, but before he can say anything Peter’s leaping out of his seat and shooting towards the lunch line.

“I didn’t know it was humanly possible to be that excited for pizza sticks.” MJ muses from across the table, and Ned allows his gaze to fall upon his friend. She has an apple in one hand and a book in the other, her hair is tied up in a haphazard ponytail, and her feet are on the table. This is MJ in all her glory; uncaring and unforgiving. Ned smiles.

“Peter’s long past humanly possible,” He snickers, and MJ pretends not to notice. “Hey, by the way, have you seen Y/N today, we have a project to finish?” Ned ends the statement with a question mark, right as Peter sits down and blanches a bit, but quickly begins filling his mouth with pizza sticks. He shakes his head minutely, and Ned grows all the more suspicious. MJ picks up on it too, and shoots a quick look at Ned like, “Hey, is our best friend a murderer or something?”

Lunch carries on that way, Peter continuously falling asleep on the table and MJ jolting him awake. Ned is practically bouncing out of his skin by the time free period (the thankful final period of the day) rolls around.

“Dude, what happened last night?” He whispers into the blissfully empty computer lab. Peter is busy sketching out prototypes for the suit. It’s almost as if neither of them are even trying to keep this thing a secret anymore. The superhuman shrugs and continues to sketch. “C’mon dude, you fell asleep practically in your web fluid.” He groans. Peter shrugs again.

“Nothing much Ned. Nothing much.” His voice is short and final, a tone Peter rarely uses. This whole Spider-Man business has made him seem all the more serious, especially after that whole Vulture fiasco.

“Okay,” Ned, the good friend he is, decides to drop it. “Hey, dude! I’ve been counting up my birthday money and my dog-walking money, and I have enough to buy that touch screen laptop! Imagine all the guy-in-the-chair stuff I could do then! Bro, I could hack into your suit and…” Ned dives deep into his own nerdiness; gesticulating wildly as he offers different ways he can help Peter when he’s out in the field. Peter nods along and laughs appropriately, his eyes fighting to stay open as he fights yawn after yawn. 

Ned pretends not to notice.  
***  
You spend the next few days essentially lying in bed, doing nothing but the occasional shred of homework. Your mom decides school is not something to worry about for the remainder of the week, and you take off work for the next few days.

You haven’t told anyone about the incident yet. Half of you is still struggling to believe that it had actually occurred and wasn’t some sick fever dream, and the other half is too embarrassed to tell. You couldn’t imagine having to tell anyone, never mind your close friends, about how you had sobbed into Spider-Man’s chest and fallen asleep on his shoulder all because you forgot pepper spray.

However, word must eventually get out, because there’s a loud knock on the apartment door. You leap to your feet, your comforter flying onto the ground in a lump as your mother races across the apartment, yelling a forgotten, “I got it!” as she goes. You throw on a pair of pants and the door opens, the swelling voices of your friends immediately greet your ears. You pat down the mane of hair that now resides on your head (okay, maybe you forgot to shower, but there were more important things!), and exit your room.

“Y/N!” Ned knocks the wind out of you as he tackles you in a tight hug. Your ribs ache a bit at the tightness, but you melt into the warmth and smile a bit. The closest thing you’ve got to human contact is your brother’s robotic voice over face time and your mother sobbing into your hair, so this was a definite plus. 

“Long time no see, freak.” MJ tousles your hair and gives you a rare grin. You roll your eyes and ease into her hug as well. “Nice shiner, it gives you personality.” She comments, nodding towards the violent black eye you’ve been sporting. You laugh a bit at that and punch her playfully in the arm.

“Hey,” Peter practically whispers from his position in the doorway, a shy smile decorating his face. You grin back wholeheartedly, and fall into his chest. He wraps you in a too-tight hug, but you accept it happily. The warmth and chin on your head are a reminder of a few nights previous and you shudder a bit before parting. “Your mom told my aunt, so.” He shrugs. Hospital gossip, my mother smiles widely.

“Well it was getting a bit too depressing here for my taste! Besides, how can you say no to these faces?” Your mother squeezes Peter and Ned close to her and you blush. She laughs. “Snacks are in the pantry, I actually have work so, please feel free to stay as long as you want.” And she disappears. You frown a bit, feeling as though your friends are babysitting you, but you shrug it off.

“SO what happened.” Ned immediately blurts out. Peter smacks his forehead with his hand and MJ punches Ned in the shoulder.

“Come on, dude. One rule.” She groans. You laugh, and it feels as though not a single thing has changed.

“Mugger.” You shrug, a blush rising to your face as you avoid eye contact. “Spider-Man was there though.” You nod, and watch Ned’s eyes widen. He’s always had an odd fascination- no obsession- with the masked hero. Peter is staring directly at his untied converse, and MJ doesn’t seem all that impressed. “Anyways, I’ve heard nothing but good things about that new star wars movie…” You trail off, gracelessly changing the subject. Your friends all break out into mischievous grins.

“And I definitely already have it downloaded.” Ned finishes with a flourish. The four of you pile onto the ratty couch in your living room, shoulder-to-shoulder, covered in blankets and surrounded by snacks as Ned hooks the HDMI up to the TV, ready for some good, healthy, illegal fun.

“Heard Donald Glover’s in this,” MJ comments, and her and Ned somehow make an argument out of that. You laugh at the two, and Peter smiles warmly.

Peter Parker, your oldest friend, and your kindergarten valentine. You smile at him, softly. “I’ve missed you…” His face goes red, your face goes red. “Uh, at school. Ya know? Flash has been a real dick these past few days.” He stutters over his words, stumbling over each syllable. You're blushing something fierce now, recalling how every time Flash has something to say, you, Ned, and MJ (Peter’s Protection Pals, as you often affectionately refer to yourselves as) have a quick retort. 

“Well no worries, being at home all day has enabled me to go through argument after argument in my head. I have about one million burns stored up here.” You tap your forehead lightly and Peter chuckles a bit. It’s good to see him so at ease, these past few months there’s been a noticeable change in him. He’s always tired, and somehow slightly more stoic; even though he’s the biggest goofball in the world. You reckon it has something to do with Liz up and leaving due to her father’s unfortunate career choice, but you never mention it.

So many things have been left unsaid between the two of you.

The movie starts with a bang, and the next few hours are filled with pillow fights (which you can’t really be involved in, because your neck is the color of the sunrise), food fights, laughter, yelling, commentary, and all around fun. At some point, Deadpool is splayed across the screen. You can begin to see the sun rising through the living room window and are flabbergasted to discover that you’ve spent the whole night not paying attention.

MJ and Ned are both passed out, MJ inhabiting your smaller couch with Ned curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor, by her side. MJ snores quietly, and Ned says a few nonsensical things.

“I always love watching the sunrise.” Peter mumbles sleepily by your side. You turn to him with a smile, nodding in agreement. Your throat aches and your eyes are beginning to slip shut. You lean into your friend and begin to let sleep overcome you.

“Hey, I-I’m really glad your safe.” You feel fingers, carding through your hair and Peter’s soft, sleepy voice. You smile widely, unable to contain it, and finally fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so I'm sorry that this is kind of slow and boring but I'm beginning to roll here. I've got a few more chapters planned and may even get out another one tonight! thanks for reading!


	3. Been Doing Just Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is somewhere between homecoming and infinity war, because infinity war hurt me too bad to think about so!
> 
> also this chapter is somewhat Peter-centric!

It’s been ten days since the incident, and things are finally beginning to return to a semblance of normalcy. Your bruises are nearly faded, so people have stopped giving you those awful, pitying looks that you detest so, you’re completely caught up on your assignments, the school year is winding down, and no one is treating you like you’re going to break at any moment. You’re even returning to work.

It’s midnight on a Thursday, so technically Friday, and you’re just about ready to leave. Your mom had fought tooth and nail to let you go back, but your family desperately needed the money. So in that case, she couldn’t just take off work to walk you home and be there for you at night anymore, and your brother was at school across the country, so it’s not like he was much help either. You promised her you’d use some of your money to hail a taxi for the brief journey home, and with that in mind she begrudgingly let you return.

Mrs. O’Neal shot a nervous smile at you as you packed up your belongings. “Don’t worry,” You comment with a roll of your eyes. “I’ll try not to get attacked tonight.” You laugh. She doesn't find that to be very funny, and sighs deeply from across the restaurant, looking at you with those pitying adult eyes you’ve gotten from every teacher and administrator. You groan and walk out the door, standing on the sidewalk.

Yes, your pepper spray is clutched tightly in your dominant hand. At this moment, seconds after stepping outside, you feel a light tap on your shoulder and you whip around, pepper spray at eye level.

“WOAH!” You are met with a flash of red and blue, and none other than Spiderman, standing horizontal to the ground on the sidewall of the diner, is next to you. “I’m guessing that’s not used to season your fries.” He gestures to the pepper spray, and you gently tuck it back into your pocket, staring at the hero incredulously. He’s squinting down at you, and you can practically feel the excitable energy radiating off of him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.” You laugh quietly. “What are you even doing here, anyway?” You immediately mentally slap yourself for that one. He’s freaking Spider-Man who cares why he’s there, just be grateful he is.

“Well I was in the neighborhood, as the name entails, and I figured I’d stop to see if my favorite waitress was back.” He chuckles confidently and you roll your eyes, a blush already covering your face. “Now, I see your shift is over. Need an escort home?” He questions, doing a front flip as he leaps onto the ground, extending his arm for you to take. You snort, pushing his arm aside.

“Some company would certainly be appreciated.” You nod and push past him as he grumbles something about the death of the gentleman. He trots to your side, quickly catching up to you. It’s in this moment that you realize, he isn’t all that tall, or big. Sure, he’s got a good amount of muscle mass but he’s skinny as a beanpole. The body of a gymnast, essentially. 

You catch yourself staring and look away quickly, fighting the redness rising to your cheeks.

“So, Y/N,” You smile, he remembers your name from all those days ago. “How’ve you been?” He questions enthusiastically, as if he actually cares to hear the answer. You smile wider; conversation continues to be surprisingly easy with the masked hero. 

“Well, Spidey, it’s been pretty damn boring.” He chuckles at that, and you begin to launch into an explanation of how boring school is and how you simply cannot wait for the summer; for sleepovers and adventures around every corner. He nods along, laughing as you gesticulate wildly and explain how Ned offered to even build Legos outside this summer. “How about you?” You respond with a deep breath.

“The usual. Keeping the city safe, maybe even making new friends.” He nudges your shoulder and you look up at him, a smile taking over your entire countenance. His eyes widen and he looks forward again, you’re very suddenly nearing your apartment building, and you can’t help but be a bit saddened that your walk is ending so quickly.

He walks you up to your door, and stands in the doorway as you struggle to get the key to turn. He laughs condescendingly, but when he offers to do it, you bust the door open. He laughs again, “Someone doesn’t like help very much, huh?” He comments, standing in the doorway of your home, barely even filling it halfway. You roll your eyes, smiling again. 

“Yeah, whatever, pal.” You reply. The two of you stand for a moment, no words passed between each other but an obvious friendship forged. “Hey thanks,” You blurt out suddenly, any ounce of smoothness you once carried dissipating immediately. “You know, for saving my life a couple of weeks ago, and for, uhh, getting me home and all.” You explain with a nod. “I don’t think I ever got to thank you.” It’s quiet for a second, you see him tense quickly, but then he’s back to normal.

“Don’t worry about it,” He cackles. “It’s literally my job.” And with that, he disappears down the stairwell, his laugh echoing long behind him. You go to bed that night feeling safe for the first time in quite a long while.  
***  
The next few weeks pass like that. Spider-Man is always waiting outside of the diner at around midnight; waiting while your shift ends. A few times, he has ventured into the building and ordered a coffee, that Mrs. O’Neal insists is on the house (“You saved my baby, it’s the least I can do to repay you!”). You never see him drink from the Styrofoam cup but he’s always clutching it tightly in his gloved hand.

The two of you have become friends. Every shift he waits, you crack jokes and discuss pop-culture. A few times he even lets himself complain about how the newspapers portraying him as something evil are an inconvenience at best. The cops practically have a warrant out for his arrest at this point (which both of you vehemently fight against). 

Every evening, in the warm May breeze, rain or stars, he walks you up to the doorway of your apartment, indulges in a bit of conversation, and then jumps down the staircase with a howl of delight. The mugging becomes a distant memory, you’re unafraid of your city again, and everything is looking rosy.  
***  
Peter is still tired. He can barely keep his eyes open all day, and is relying on two-hour power naps when he gets home from school to keep him going. Peter is tired because he does not sleep, much to the chagrin of his mentor, who always says something along the lines of, “Now kid, I’m no expert genius or anything, but I’m nearly positive that superbaby’s like you require a full night’s rest in order to properly function. Also, quit drooling on my equipment.”

But the spider can’t sleep, he simply cannot. Because nearly every night at sometime around midnight, he has to walk Y/N home. He has to walk you home, make sure you’re comfortable and safe, and then sit on the roof of your building until he sees the sunrise. After that, with daylight as his excuse, he swings back to his own apartment, quietly slips through the window, and passes out restlessly for about an hour until he escorts you to school. He is always waiting at your door with a charming grin and a coffee in hand.

He tried to pick up a coffee habit, he really did, but curse his enhanced metabolism for disallowing that addiction for manifesting. 

He couldn’t not walk you home, because what if that guy was back, or there was another guy? What if something bad was to happen and he wasn’t there to protect you? He couldn’t bear to imagine the possibility, because it would never happen.

Because he refused to not walk you home.

“Yo, Penis.” He hears the spitball before he can see it. He hears it soaring through the air, on a beeline for the back of his head. He grits his teeth together because he know he can’t move, he knows he can’t avoid the mucusy-attack, because that’s too suspicious. Clumsy, doe-eyed Peter Parker could barely move faster than molasses, in the eyes of his schoolmates, and he had planned to keep it that way

The ball hits home and he slowly turns, seeing Flash and his cronies laughing hysterically at the archaic form of bullying. He frowns, ignoring them and swatting the gross object from his head.

“What, is Mr. Stark not gonna come clean that up for you?” Flash crows, but Peter and Ned have faded into the growing crowd of students, silently slipping through side-by-side, until they reach the quiet computer lab Ned has begun to affectionately refer to as “Our Headquarters”. 

Once the quiet envelops the two boys, and Peter settles comfortably into a chair, whipping out his calculus book to suffer through his homework as quickly as possible, Ned opens his mouth. “So, how’s stalking Y/N going?” He questions cheekily, and Peter nearly slams his book on his fingers.

“It’s not stalking-“ 

“Dude, you sit on the top of her building every single night, I think that’s some form of stalking.” He adds matter-of-factly and Peter rolls his eyes, ignoring the comment and opting instead to focus his divided-attention on his homework. Ned is persistent, however. “C’mon dude, just tell her you like her already. You’re both so stupid.” He breathes out in annoyance; Peter winces at the new addition to the conversation.

“No, she likes Spider-Man, Ned. Not Peter Parker.” Peter mumbles in a rehearsed fashion. Yeah, it’s obvious to half the school that Peter has been pining after you ever since the 7th grade snowball dance, but he notes how you don’t feel quite the same, especially with all the Spider-Man talk you’ve been injecting into conversations recently.

“Newsflash dummy, you are Spider-Man.” Ned whispers harshly. Peter blushes and rolls his eyes, his calculus homework incoherent as he does it practically brainlessly.

“Don’t mention the news, bro. Especially not today.” Peter deftly changes the subject; making reference to how more and more Spider-Man hate stories have begun to appear. Especially regarding the fallout of the Accords, people want Spider-Man off the streets now more than ever. Or for him to reveal his identity, both of which are a huge no go for Peter.

“Peter, that’s another issue we have to address-“ Ned is cut off by the loud ringing of Peter’s Stark Phone, which he gratefully digs out of his backpack. Ned narrows his eyes, as if Peter had planned this interruption, when Peter’s eyes go a bit wide. Ned, ever curious, peeks over at his friend’s home screen as well. There, splayed out on the screen clear is day, is two words: Tony Stark.

When Tony Freaking Stark calls, you answer. So that’s what Peter does.

“Mr. Stark, what’s up?” Peter goes for nonchalance, his usual energy peaking through nonetheless. Tony can practically hear the kid bouncing on his toes, his thoughts racing a million miles a minute as his mentor and personal hero calls.

“Hey kid, so I heard you were having girl troubles.” And Peter lets out the largest groan he figures is humanly possible.  
***  
Okay. So Ned may have spilled the beans to Aunt May. And sure, he might’ve insinuated that Peter needed to hear things from a sort-of, well, father figure. And yeah, alright, maybe he had personally planned this attack on his best friend with a smiling May herself, but it was for the greater good.

Well, maybe his greater good, because if he had to see Y/N or Peter sneaking stare at one another one more freaking time, he was going to explode. 

***  
Later that evening, Peter finds himself working side-by-side with Tony Stark in the latter’s lab. He’s biding his time before midnight strikes, patiently researching nanotechnology that Mr. Stark thinks could be useful in a new, regenerating suit. They work in relative silence, the hums and whirs of the building around them a comfortable backdrop, and Peter can hear the soft Black Sabbath Mr. Stark is playing. The younger feels entirely at peace.

“So, about those girl problems,” Tony begins. The mechanic is mentally kicking himself for letting May talk him into having this conversation. “You want to, uh, talk about it?” His voice is hesitant, because this isn’t his child but god dammit it’s his kid and he dreadfully reckons that this is the beginning of a talk he himself never received. 

“God no, Mr. Stark. Let’s just get back to work.” Peter tries. “Hey, did I tell you about my engineering research paper? Well, as you know I’ve begun to take an interest in biomedical engineering and I was planning on-“

“All right pipsqueak,” Tony sighs, interrupting the younger. “Between you and me, I don’t really want to have this talk either. I’m sure Cap will explain it to you in one of those home video PSA’s you’re always going on about-“ Tony raises his eyebrow, arms crossed as he looks at the kid. “But, your hot aunt really worries about this for some reason." He breathes deeply, looking up to God above and wondering 'come on, why me?' He breathes deeply, "So, when a man and a woman love each other very much-”

“WOAH!” Peter cries out, vaulting over his seat and putting his hands on the billionaire’s shoulders in an effort to get him to stop talking. “Let’s just pretend!? Okay?” He calls out. "Let's just pretend we had this conversation, and then we'll never speak about this moment ever again. Like, never ever." Peter shudders a bit, and Tony shrugs, nodding obligingly. The kid was saving him just as much as he was saving himself.

“All right kid, but don’t say I didn’t try.” The engineer shrugs. “So, what do you got for me?” He nods towards his intern, walking over to him, arms crossed. Peter sits back down and Tony claps a hand on his shoulder as the young superhero delves into the nuances of nanotechnology, his eyes alight and his mouth upturned in a smile as he shares his findings. Stark smiling as well.

Tony couldn’t help but smile down at the young genius who he was slowly beginning to regard as a son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope mr brightside is as stuck in your head as it is in mine rn (and always).


	4. It Started Out With A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to heat up! This is where the plot will slowly begin to take us.

Peter leaves Tony in the lab at around 10, because he knows May has work at midnight that night, but that she liked to see him before she went. Happy drives him home, sighing at every word that seems to leave Peter’s mouth and looking as uninterested as he can make himself (because Happy would die before he admitted that he had taken a liking to that obnoxious little hero).

Peter jumps out of the car with a big, “THANKS HAPPY!” who disappears into the darkness before Peter can even finish the phrase. The younger then bolts up the few flights of stairs, hoping to expend some energy before bouncing off the walls in his apartment, which is filled with the smells of…. Burnt spaghetti?

“I don’t know how I did it, I really don’t. But I most definitely burnt this spaghetti to hell!” May cries out after planting a bright-red kiss on her nephew’s forehead. She sits down at the kitchen table as Peter tries to fix the current spaghetti situation. “I figured you could use a nice, warm meal before going out tonight, but I burnt it.” She sighs again, a small smile spreading across her face as she realizes the humor in the situation.

May had been ridiculously cool about the whole Spider-Man situation. However, when she found out she practically marched straight down to Stark Towers and demanded she be allowed to see Tony Stark. The only problems here were that the tower has just been emptied and was practically empty, and that Tony was a couple of hours away upstate. May managed to somehow work her magic, though, because a few hours of waiting lead to Tony blessing the aunt and nephew with his appearance. After May was through with the philanthropist, well let’s just say that Tony understood why his charge was slightly scared of her.

Of course, there were ground rules, in the case of Spider-Man. Like how school always comes first

“Homework?” She asked her nephew as he plated the spaghetti, drenching it in sauce he had heated up.

“Did it with Mr. Stark. You can even ask, he helped me on my engineering paper.” He said through a mouthful of sauce-drenched spaghetti. He gave May a plate as well and she smiled as she took a bite. Peter had covered it in so much sauce that the pasta was practically undetectable. May nodded in thanks.

“So, have you talked to Y/N recently? Her mother said a certain spider was the current object of her affection.” May questioned mischievously, watching as Peter nearly choked on his food and fell off the counter he was sat on. “Oh, come on Pete, are you gonna do something about it, or not?”

“Aunt May-“ Peter begins, his voice cracking halfway through. “I haven’t the foggiest idea as to what you’re talking about.” He tries in his best British accent, deflecting the conversation in the only way he can think how.

His aunt sighs. “Peter, sweetheart. The whole freaking world knows that you’ve got a crush. Pursue it! She’s a sweet kid with a good head on her shoulders, and you’re bearable sometimes,” She winks as he scoffs. “Just suck it up and do it already.” She sighs, unceremoniously dumping her food onto Peter’s then-empty plate. He hungrily scarfs it down, grateful for the offering.

“Aunt May, we are best friends. I can’t ruin that!” He cries out in indignation. May rolls her eyes at him and he barks out a laugh. “God, no one will let this go. Even Mr. Stark was bullying me about it. He called me a coward!” Peter throws his plate into the sink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sauce everywhere. “Besides, she’s way out of my league.” He shrugs as he heads towards his room. 

“Peter,” She stops her nephew. “You’re a cute kid. And you’re a superhero, in more ways than one. I know you’re brave and I trust you to make the right decision, even if it’s just about a girl.” She laughs as she shrugs on a sweatshirt and grabs her bag, where her scrubs are packed away. She ruffles his hair as she leaves. “Oh, your Uncle Ben was like this about me, you know.” She says, her eyes filling with starry wonder. “He liked me and everyone could tell, so one day I walked right up to him and I said, you know what I said? I said, ‘Alright Ben. You know you like me, I know you like me, and so does the whole world. I’ve been waiting around for months now for a proper invitation, but I suppose it’s time I invite myself. We’re going to prom together. Pick me up at 4.’” She laughs.

“And the rest is history.” With that, she kisses Peter’s head again, and then heads to work, leaving Peter with nothing but the smell of burning pasta, and his thoughts.  
***  
“You’re late.” You call as you watch Spider-Man scale down the wall, approaching you from the side. He flips to his feet and squints at you, in what you imagine is indignation.

“Well sorry Miss. Perfect. The world doesn't revolve around you.” He replies. You hand him a Styrofoam cup of coffee and he accepts it with little fanfare. This is the norm now.

“So, big shot, have you heard about that green guy?” You ask. He nods reverently as you bring up New York’s newest super villain; a guy decked in all green who flies around on some kind of floating surfboard or something. He’s popped up in the news a few times, and you’d seen pictures of him and your masked friend doing battle throughout the city.

“Green Goblin.” Spider-Man puts a name to the figure. “Guy’s a total nut job, I can’t even figure out what his endgame is; he just likes to beat me up.” The hero shrugs, his voice rising in annoyance. You laugh at that.

“Well, you have to admit. You do have a kind of punch-able face.” You comment with a smirk, and the spider feigns hurt at that. You feel as though the two of you are old friends as you talk your way home. This has become a normal part of life, something you don’t even think about as it occurs. People in school talk about the “Masked Menace” everyday as if he’s a god. But to you, he’s not. He’s a friend.

“I was talking about you to my friends in school today,” You start, recalling a conversation that occurred between the quartet that was your friend group. “And my friend Ned was saying some pretty outlandish things about you.” You shrug as you remember the talk. It had gone something like this:

Ned: “Hey, did you guys read that Teen Vogue article on how Spider-Man is the worst kisser, like ever.”

You: “Oh come on Ned, you can’t read into that crap. It’s just crazy fan girls speculating as to why he won’t fall in love with them after he saves the day.”

MJ: “Wow, are you guys really fighting over Spider-Man. Ladies, there’s enough to go around!”

Peter: “Maybe he’s just never even kissed anyone. Maybe he hasn’t met the right girl-“

Ned: “Maybe Teen Vogue is right. And maybe Y/N is just too in love with the guy to admit it. I mean, let’s be real here, would you ever seriously consider kissing the Spider-Man.”

You: “…. Yes.”

MJ had immediately burst out into laughter over that, and you thought you saw Peter simultaneously blushing and blanching all at once. Ned was smiling the most shit-eating grin you had ever witnessed, eyeing Peter every time you had looked away. You had told them all off after that, throwing the remainder of your grapes around the table, until as usual, Peter saved the day with a quick subject change.

You’re jolted back to reality at that thought. “Well, I guess it wasn’t actually Ned saying it, but he was referencing a magazine article. I don’t suppose you often read Teen Vogue.” Your face is beginning to go bright red because you don’t really know why the hell you’re bringing up but you’re in too deep no and mama didn’t raise no bitch. “Anyways, there’s a feature article on how you’re supposedly a bad kisser.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then a burst of laughter. You’re surprised (and quite relieved) to notice that Spider-Man didn’t find that uncomfortable, but rather hysterical as he leans against a nearby wall for support. You start to laugh as well.

“Whew,” He breathes out, wiping away a fake tear as he quiets his laughter. “I’m sorry that’s just ridiculous. The damn newspapers are calling for my head, and meanwhile, Teen Vogue is making up stories of girls kissing me.” He shudders through another laugh and then it’s just the two of you, staring at each other.

“I’ve never been kissed.” You blurt out, because something about the way his head is tilted at a forty-five degree angle and his fingers are twitching just makes you want to say it. And this is all just so cliche you can hardly even breathe. His eyes widen, and then softly, almost discernibly, he speaks.

“Me neither.” You step closer to him but before anything can happen, someone is calling your name and with a "thwip" and a bang, he has disappeared somewhere above you. You look up to see his figure perched on the fire escape above you, finger raised to where you assume his lips are as his fake eyes wink cheekily.

“Yo! Y/N! Hey!” You look back down to see none other than Flash jogging towards you. You roll your eyes as blatantly as humanly possible and don’t even attempt to stifle the deep sigh that escapes your lips. “Well, don’t look so happy, huh?” He chuckles at his weak attempt at humor, slowing his jog and standing poised in front of you, a few feet away.

“What do you want, Flash?” You question tiredly. In what seems to be a different world, or at least eons ago, you had been very good friends with the now school bully. You used to spend countless hours together, with him and his crew in the schoolyard. Until you had met Ned and reconnected with Peter, that is.

Oh, and MJ had called you out too.

“Oh, nothing much sweetheart. Just saw you and figured we could do some catching up, honey.” You gag at the stupid pet names and put your hands on your hips, eyebrows raised as you stare at him in incredulity. You begin to turn away but he catches his shoulder and spins you. You gasp, frightened before you remember it’s just stupid Flash. 

“What do you want?” You ask again, curtly. You mean no-nonsense and you want particularly nothing to do with him. You cast a death glare at him and he rolls his eyes, dropping his macho-man façade. 

“Nothing. You’re just hot, okay?” He responds. You make a visibly disgusted face and he smirks, continuing on. “Y/N, you’re one of the hottest chicks in school, why do you sacrifice that and hang out with Penis everyday? Especially when you can have, you know, me?” He raises and lowers his eyebrows suggestively. You feel anger spike within you.

“His name is Peter. Don’t call people names like that just because you’re self-conscious.” You respond quickly. He frowns deeply. “Besides, Peter’s just a better all around person than you, Flash. I’d choose him over you every single time.” You shrug and he takes a step closer, you match that by taking two back. You see movement above your head and let the anxiety that was beginning to build relax. You had this. “Go home, Flash. I have things to do.”

“Let me walk you.” He tries in a last ditch effort, reaching out for your hand. You bat his away and shake your head at him.

“No.”

“Come on, we both know you shouldn’t be walking home alone. The streets will eat someone like you alive.” He practically whines in his desperate attempt at smoothness. You bark out a laugh at that, as if Flash would be any help in the face of danger. He’d run the other way faster than imaginable, especially if the decathlon debacle was any sort of indicator.

“I’m not walking alone.” You reply with a small smile, thinking about the hero who’s been forced to watch this whole ridiculous endeavor from above. “I’m walking home with Spider-Man.” Flash breaks into fits of laughter at that, your smile widens even further at that. He reaches out and grasps your wrist tightly in his hand, and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, okay. Then where is he right now, huh? He gonna come save the day? He’s gonna come walk you home?” He sputters through the laughter, his hand tight around your wrist. You work at prying it off, avoiding eye contact or really looking at him at all. “Y/N, he’s a freaking superhero. Good try, let’s go.” 

He whispers to himself, “Where’s the Spider-Freak right now, then?” The bully then turns around and is face-to-face with an upside-down Spider-Man, hanging from a web connected to the fire escape he was hidden upon. You can’t see Flash’s face from your position behind him, but you can only assume he’s staring on in wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock. Before any words are said, a styrofoam cup of coffee tumbles to the ground and splashes its lukewarm contents all over Flash. He shrieks in horror.

“Hey, you looking for a Spider-Freak? Because I’m right here.” Spidey waves at the tormentor from his position, the two are at eye level, but obviously grounded from different directions. Spider-Man gestures to the tight grip Flash has on your hand. “I recommend you let my friend over here go.” Flash drops your hand like it’s a sack of hot potatoes. You smile wide, winking at the hero. Spidey nods to him.

“Y-You’re S-Spider-Man.” Flash ventures. “Holy FUCK!” He cries out.

“I kind of like Spider-Freak, keeps me humble, you know?” The hero shrugs from his awkward position, still maintaining direct eye contact with the teen. “Now, I hate to say this, but if you ever put your greasy hands on her again, I will make your life hell. Got it?” The bully nods, barking out an incoherent response. and without another word, tears off in the other direction.

You burst into laughter, stepping closer to the masked vigilante, he looks at you earnestly. “Are you okay?” He asks, concern lacing his every word as he lowers himself, so you’re eye level now. Unfortunately, even Flash has a few inches on you. “That guy seemed like… like a real dick.” You’re struck for a moment, for how familiar that sounds, but shake it off as the comfort you and Spidey had garnered.

“Yeah, he’s just a school bully.” You shrug, looking straight at him. There are only inches between you, and the hero. Just mere inches. “How could anyone not be okay when they’re with you?” You mentally punch yourself for how cheesy that is, but the hero says nothing of the sort, changing the subject.

“So, about those kisses…” He trails off. You don’t blush like you thought you would, instead you take another miniscule step closer, so you can feel his uneven, rushed breathing on your face. You feel your heartbeat pounding so fast and furious in your chest that you reckon the other can hear it. You don’t care though.

“Yeah, about that…” You reach up towards the hero’s chin, and tentatively place your fingers on where the mask meets the suit. You feel him gulp deeply beneath your fingers, but he nods minutely. “Can I?” You question, breathlessly.

“Yes.” He responds. You gently pull the mask up, but stop after his mouth. You notice a tuft of curly, unruly dark hair peaking out from the back of the mask. In all this time, you somehow seemed to have forgotten that Spider-Man was human. He sounded no older than you, really, and his physical appearance didn’t scream ‘forty-year old man’ exactly.

You stand up on your tip-toes, your eyes unable to move from his lips, your hands placed firmly on his back. He’s swinging back and forth slightly in the breeze, and he puts a hand on the back of your head.

And then your lips meet, and everything makes sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you get the work title now!?
> 
> thanks for all the love guys!!!!


	5. Stomach Is Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is EXTREMELY long and I have not edited it, but it's 3am here and I just wanted to get it up!!!! thnx for the comments and kudos and please keep them coming!!!!! enjoy!
> 
> *6/13/18
> 
> FRESHLY EDITED/REWRITTEN! ENJOY!!!!!!

The next morning, Peter is all smiles when he arrives at your door. You open it and he immediately bounces in, hugging you with one arm, looking dreamy and far off. You laugh cheerfully as he looks down at you, a smile plastered across his face.

“Did you win the lottery last night?” You ask, but your smile is just about as wide as his, if not wider.

“Something like that.” He shrugs, but before you can question what that means, an alarm on your phone goes off, notifying you that it’s time to embark on the journey to school. You shrug his arm off of your shoulders and strap on your backpack, practically pushing the daydreaming teen out of your apartment before locking the door behind you. 

“Uh, Earth to Peter?” You call sarcastically, enthusiastically waving a hand in front of his face. He shakes himself out of his stupor and looks down at you with a cheesy grin. “It’s time for school, weirdo.” You roll your eyes and brush past him as you begin the somewhat long journey to Midtown tech. You hear his footsteps stutter to a start as he jumps a few steps to catch up. 

“What, I can’t just be outwardly happy for once?” He caws indignantly, earning a bark of laughter from you.

“Not this early.” You respond, but your smile betrays you. “And what do you mean? You’re pretty consistently outwardly happy.” You mock him. He gasps in fake hurt, holding a hand to his chest before cracking into a huge, un-containable smile. You find yourself immediately returning the gesture.

“Well, you’re looking a bit chipper yourself, pal.” He points out, wagging a finger at you accusingly. “So don’t be a hypocrite!” He cries, and the two of you shove each other playfully, grasping onto each other’s arms and earning dirty looks from strangers. Neither of you even seems to notice or care, enjoying the excitable, energetic company for once. 

Because of this, the adventure to school is more fun than usual. You even feel like everyone is staring at you. Probably because you’re simply exuding happiness. You even meet up with Ned on the way over, as you exchange one subway for another. He’s frowning and half-asleep, looking at the two of you warily.

“How the hell can you be smiling this early in the morning?” He moans through a yawn, repeating the same line you shot at Peter earlier. Ned stretches his arms and nearly punches a now-disgruntled looking businessman, a common occurrence at this point. He quickly averts his eyes, as though he too had been staring at you. You shake it off and offer an apology to the guy, but he just brushes off his suit and rolls his eyes in annoyance, the Oscorp pin on his jacket telling as to his mood. Peter makes a face; working for Stark Industries means that he’s basically contractually obligated to hate Norman Osborn’s decrepit technological company. 

(Also rumor has it the guy is kind of a nut job). Peter’s always had a kind of weird, morbid fascination with the company. Ever since some field trip or whatever.

“Seriously, am I having a nightmare?” Ned questions again, flabbergasted. “Because I don’t think I’ve seen Peter this awake in…. well ever…” He pokes his best friend nervously in the cheek, and Peter rolls his eyes, batting his friend’s hands away.

“I just got a lot of sleep last night,” He lies through his teeth, but the quick addition and star-bright smile leave you no room to call him out on it. Peter has always been the worst liar, “The internship was amazing.” Ned narrows his eyes at that, and then slowly turns to Y/N and sees the dreamy, faraway look in your eyes and the wide smile plastered across your face; one that you can’t seem to shake no matter how hard you try. 

“Dude, what-“ Ned begins right as the subway hits a hitch in its tracks. Peter’s hand jerks towards the strap above at lightning speed, his other arm tensing as you fall into him and he pulls you closer, so you’re wrapped up in Peter. You relish in the moment for a second, inhaling deeply the scent of his cologne, feeling his hitched- and then even- deep breathing. You sigh contentedly before unraveling yourself. The two of you make eye contact and your faces burn red.

A buzzer basically goes off in Ned’s head in that moment.

“Oh really?” He smirks towards Peter and the two exchange a look of deep understanding. You hate when they do that, have those silent conversations with their eyes. You hate not being involved in the big, annoying secret they share. “What about you, Y/N? Why are you so happy?” He asks as if he’s grilling you.

“Well, Ned, let’s just say that you and Teen Vogue are very wrong.” You smirk without thinking, wanting to have a secret of your own for a second. You look condescendingly at the two before realizing what you had just said. Your eyes go wide. “Wait, I, uh-“ You begin to stumble across words and Ned’s eyes widen farther than you thought imaginable and Peter lets out a loud snort, looking between the two of you with a twinkle in his eye and a slight, defined blush on his face. 

Well, the cat’s out of the bag, you suppose. You try to pull together a semblance of dignity and straighten your shoulders, fixing your posture. You breathe once and let a smile creep across your face. You shrug and escape the crowded subway, the three of you embarking on the final portion of your journey.

“What do you mean?” Ned wheezes, trotting to keep up with your now quick pace. You feel untouchable today, and everyone seems to notice as you’re still attracting stares from all over. Peter is keeping an even pace with you, his smile exchanged for a content grin, but you can feel nervous energy radiating off of him as he looks around, hands dug deep in his pockets. You ignore it.

“You know exactly what I mean, my sweet friend.” You respond haughtily as the three of you enter the campus grounds, Ned still spluttering as he searches for words. You enter the building and are immediately met by more stares, but these ones are blatant. No one is trying to hide it.

You grow self-conscious, your smile beginning to fade as you unconsciously step closer to Peter, hiding behind his semi-lanky figure as you go on. School was usually fairly painless, you were popular enough that no one made your life hell, and you still had your set group of academic decathlon-centric friends. You usually so easily blended in that no one would bat an eye.

Except today, because everyone is seemingly batting their eyes as they stare.

“Ned, did you accidentally post one of those Lego videos on YouTube again?” You question under your breath. Ned shakes his head, not able to verbally respond as he tries to get his wits about him with the entirety of Midtown High (faculty and staff included) staring at him. The weirdest thing is people are still carrying out full conversations; the building is as loud as it is every morning, but no one’s gaze falls on anything except your trio.

“What’s up, nerds?” MJ claps you on the back and wraps her arms around you and Peter’s shoulders, acting normal as always in the face of this oddness. MJ never truly cares what everyone seems to think of her, however even she’s a bit bothered by all the stares. “Did you guys commit a murder or something?” She asks, turning to the nearest group of people and sneering until they turn away.

“Not that I know of…” Ned murmurs, his eyes flitting nervously to Peter, who looks like he’s halfway to a panic attack. You wrap your hand around his forearm in an attempt to ground him, and he nods his thanks, breathing deeply and zoning out.

MJ looks around as they maneuver their way to class, before finding a smaller kid who’s been staring at them this whole time, smiling dreamily. She turns to him, offering her signature deadly stare. “What’s everyone staring at us for?” She questions, a growl hidden beneath her voice.

The kid snaps to attention, gulping deeply, Adam’s apple bobbing as he returns MJ’s stare. “The-the picture in the news!” He calls out in response. MJ looks at her three friends in confusion, and when none of them react, she turns back to the kid. 

“What are you talking about?” MJ’s eyes narrow as she takes a step closer to him. He stumbles backwards, crashing into a locker. MJ rolls her eyes, taking a few steps back to give the kid space. He seems to visibly relax a bit at that, taking a deep breath and even showing a small, shaky smile, his eyes resting on you alone.

However, rather than say anything, he pulls out his phone and opens the Twitter App, and you immediately gasp.

Plastered all across that god-forsaken website is you kissing a certain upside-down web-slinger. You grab the phone from the kid’s hand and zoom in on the picture. Spider-Man’s back is facing the camera, so you can’t see any features on him whatsoever; not even the curls of hair that your fingers had so surely been knotted in. 

You, however, were not so lucky, as your face is clear as day. The two of you are directly beneath a street-lamp, causing the perfect amount of lighting to befall you.

You curse yourself silently for not having heard the click of the camera, but you take a deep breath. You look up to see your three friends staring on at you, wearing three vastly different expressions. Peter’s face is drained of all color and he’s doing his absolute best to avoid looking at you. Ned’s mouth is hanging open as he stares between the three of you, his eyes wide as possible, his face going red. MJ, forever accountable, thanks the kid and shrugs at you.

“So, you gonna tell us about your first kiss?” She questions with a peal of laughter, turning on her heel to continue the walk to class. You jump in line behind her, trying to leach some of her confidence and badass, careless attitude. I mean, come on, you kissed freaking Spiderman. You doubt any of your classmates can say that.

Well, at least you hope they can’t.

You shake the thought of the hometown hero kissing another person from your head and continue to follow and listen to MJ, who’s animatedly talking about how some teacher tried to argue with her, and failed miserably as those who cross MJ tend to do. 

You ignore how you feel Peter’s eyes flicking to you. You try to not think about how he hasn’t said a word, how his cheerful demeanor has vanished. You try not to think about how he won’t look at you and how he’s been quiet for a few minutes, which Peter Parker simply never is.

The four of you walk down the hallway together. MJ peals off first, heading to her classroom with a salute, blowing very obnoxious kisses in your direction, easing the mood. Next, Ned and Peter depart, both uncharacteristically silent as they motor to class, not even able to give so much as a wave. You sigh as you enter your classroom, a bit annoyed to find anxiety blooming in your chest without your friends- scratch that- without MJ flanking your side.

You sit down in your usual seat, cursing yourself again for not knowing about this sooner, for letting an innocent kiss get media attention. Usually, late at night when you can’t sleep, you’ll scroll through social media until the sun rises. You normally would’ve already seen this, and then you would’ve bought a one-way ticket to Canada and would’ve never looked back. However, last night, you found yourself not needing the usual phone surfing to put you to sleep. You didn’t find sleep anyways, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Spidey.

You shoo away the thought before it can become anything else and pull out your phone to begin browsing social medias to see the damage done. And with your luck, you find that it couldn’t be worse. Media outlets had discovered your name and were putting it up everywhere. Headlines read anything from “Spider-Man Finds Love?” to “The Spider-Menace, Brainwashing Our Youth!” to “Who Does She Think She Is: Spider-Man’s Biggest Foe Yet?” You blush and turn off your phone, because you can feel the tears rushing to your face.

You ignore the texts from your brother as well, who in freaking California has apparently heard the news too. You’re unable to shake the thought that news outlets are probably attempting to contact your family now, since they had somehow discovered your name. Oh man, your mom was going to kill you.

And then, because this day couldn’t get any better, cue Flash.

“You guys, keep an eye-out on the news today, because you’re about to see the launch of my career.” Flash bursts in the room, a group of students following closely behind, hanging on to his every word. You ignore him as he slides into the seat next to you, and find yourself immediately surrounded by his followers; in enemy territory without any backup.

Flash is generally harmless, just constantly spewing out harsh nicknames and rumors about students, particularly his favorite subject, Peter. Ned says it’s because Peter never fights back, but MJ thinks it’s because Peter stays silent. There have been many lunchtime arguments about that situation.

You’re jolted out of your thoughts when Flash slams his hand on your desk. You fix him with a proper glare but he grins right back. The cat that thinks it’s caught the canary.

“So tell me, Y/N, what was kissing Spider-Man like? Did he have mandibles? Was he hairy?” Flash cackles from your side, his cronies immediately laughing at the weak jokes as well, vying for his attention that you wish you could give away. You roll your eyes and turn to him in your seat.

“You could’ve just stuck around to see for yourself last night.” You grumble and his face immediately falls, his friends looking on in confusion. You smirk to yourself, looking around at them. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Last night, the guy that he called ‘the Spider-Freak’ made him pee his pants and run crying home.” You explain, and his friends look on in slightly bemused confusion; believing what you have to say but patiently waiting for their ringleader’s response.

He’s the color of a tomato by now. “Watch it.” He whispers threateningly. “At least I don’t go around kissing arachnid superheroes because I can’t get a date.” His voice is sharp, and before you can open your mouth for a quick retort, your teacher enters the room and begins class.

The next few classes go by fairly painlessly, everyone’s muttering about you, but no one approaches you in the same way Flash did. Everything’s actually going pretty well, until the intercom buzzes in Chemistry.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N to the office, please. Y/F/N Y/L/N to the office.” The staticky voice of the secretary fills the school, and it’s like elementary school all over again when everyone ‘oooh’s’ as you throw your bag on your shoulder and practically sprint to the office, happy to escape the quizzical gazes of your classmates. 

You walk into the front office and are immediately directed to the Principal’s Office, a small room separated from where you are now. You walk over and hesitantly knock on the door.

“Come in.” Principal Morita’s voice fades through the door, and you open it, quietly slipping in to what you feel is about to be your doom. However, when you walk in you find yourself immediately face-to-face with the one, the only:

Tony Stark.  


***  


Peter has spent the morning running last night through his head. He’s trying desperately to remember hearing the soft click of a camera, or the footsteps of a running-away journalist, or the breaths of a betrayed fan, but he can’t recall anything. He’s beating himself up mentally, because he’s a superhero with enhanced senses, but he couldn’t even stop a picture from being taken in a moment of boyish weakness.

His head feels like it’s swimming, even Ned is stunned into a silence for the first few classes, unable to say anything because he feels as if there’s nothing he possibly can say. This is the worst case-scenario; this is exactly what was not supposed to happen.

Peter and his guy-in-the-chair are at lunch when he gets the message from his mentor: “Swing by the Tower after school, and wear the suit. I have some new tech I want to work on it.” Peter doesn’t even feel the usual burst of excitement he gets when Mr. Stark invites him to work on the suit together. He doesn’t even find it in himself to snort and roll his eyes at the spider pun. He can’t think about anything but about how he couldn’t stop this chaos from ensuing. His brain hurts.

Ned doesn’t say anything when Peter doesn’t touch the school-bought chicken sandwich. Because still, Ned can’t find the words to say.  


***  


“You’re Tony Stark.” You say matter-of-factly because this day simply cannot get any weirder.

“Thanks.” He responds, not looking up from his phone as he takes up the corner of Principal Morita’s office. Even the administrator seems a bit giddy with childish excitement as he looks at the billionaire, the serious expression he’s attempting to sport a clear mask for the excitement bubbling underneath. “Alright, sweetheart, here’s the deal.” 

Mr. Stark gestures for you to take a seat and you do, because Tony Stark told you to. “So, obviously our Spider-friend made a bit of a mistake in kissing you. No offense or anything, I’m sure you’re a great gal,” He says everything with a bored expression, as if this is so not what he wants to be doing right now. “However, now he’s made this a PR nightmare for all three of us, mostly you, probably, but it’s a major headache for me, too.” He points to you as he goes on explaining; you’re hanging onto his every word because it’s Tony Freaking Stark.

“Anyway, here’s the deal. Spider-Man keeps his identity a secret because he doesn’t want those he loves getting hurt, duh. But now, he’s gone and messed that up with you. So, you’re probably in danger, and you’re gonna have to lie low for a while, or at least until I figure out how to clean up this mess.” Tony Stark pinches the bridge of his nose as if he’s fighting off a headache. He mutters something about a kid, and shaving years off of his life beneath his breath.

You and Morita exchange a look.

“Anyways, moral of the story is we’re going to be roommates for a little bit.” He fakes a grin, spreading out his arms wide, false enthusiasm practically oozing out of him. You know he does NOT want to hug you, but man, you really want to lean in and hug him. You shake the thought away, staring at him quizzically. His face falls, “Come on, work with me here, Y/N.”

Tony Stark knows your name. You try not to faint but oh man is Ned going to be jealous of this.

“Sorry… this is just a lot to take in.” You nod and he looks back to his phone, tapping away. “What about my mother?” You ask in a stroke of panic. “Or my friends at school? What about the people I love, Mr. Stark?” He looks at you, making eye contact through the sunglasses he is for some reason wearing inside. You see the hint of a smile playing across his face.

“Smart kid, but don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.” You exhale the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Stark’s nonchalance and almost uncaring attitude has you feeling tense, and not the least bit better about the whole picture situation. “All right, I have a meeting to go to right now, but here’s what’s going on. Pesky news outlets are beginning to dig their little rat noses where they don’t belong, and are starting to line up outside the doors,” You try not to hyperventilate at that but holy shit they’re outside w a i t i n g for you!? “My good, smiley, sunshiny friend Happy is going to stay here for the rest of the day, and he’ll get you to the tower in the city in one piece. See you then. Don’t do anything I would do.” Mr. Stark disappears out the door with a flourish, leaving you and Principal Morita to exchange a few select glances, pondering what had just happened.  


***  


The school is plunged in darkness in the last few periods of the day, thanks to the closed shutters and curtains in each and every single classroom. Even the office and the lunchroom. Newspapers have been swarming the school all day; everyone from local school stations to giant corporation companies like NBC. Everyone is staring at you, and people have even become brave enough to venture a few questions.

“Were his lips soft?” or “Is he a good kisser?” or “How old is he?” or “Do you have his number? Could you set us up sometime?” plague you throughout the day; navigating through these familiar halls has never felt like such a warzone. 

However, the probable worst part is that Ned has finally come to his senses about everything, but his face is decorated in an uncharacteristic frown; disapproving of the entire scenario. That somehow makes it a million times worse, because Ned is the guy’s biggest fan.

You feel guilty, somehow.

Before you know it, the final bell rings and everyone scurries out of class, leaving you, Ned, and your teacher, who’s busy grading papers. You can’t make eye contact with him as the two of you shoulder your backpacks and leave, you haven’t even told him about Tony Stark yet.

“I can’t believe you kissed Spider-Man.” He mutters under his breath, and you blush violently, shoving your hands deep into your pockets. How could the day become so terrible so quickly? You shrug it off. “I bet Peter’s losing his mind right now.” He huffs again, and you shoot to attention at that one, standing stock straight with your ears practically perked up. Before you can ask him what the hell that’s supposed to mean, a shadow falls over the two of you.

“Y/N?” You look up to see an older, frowning man, dressed in a suit that probably costs more than your entire apartment. You gulp deeply and nod at him; this must be Mr. Stark’s sunshiny guy. “Well, let’s get going.” He turns on his heel and you follow obediently, leaving Ned and a web of burning questions behind.

“Here take this.” The older man says gruffly, shoving a Yankees hat and a pair of- holy shit, are these Ray Bans- in your direction. You shove the cap over your head, low so it basically covers your eyes, and slide the big glasses on as well. All that’s visible is basically your mouth- something that has gotten you in a lot of trouble recently. You bite back a hysterical laugh at that. “These guys are going to be grabby, but I can shove ‘em off.” He says curtly, and before you can ask he’s shoving the door open and pulling you close as he hustles down the stairs.

You feel like some kind of criminal in the middle of a high-stakes law-suit. Everyone bursts to action as you scurry down the stairs, microphones and cameras are shoved in your face, questions are shouted at you with no rhyme or rhythm; everyone wants to know who the girl that kissed the Spider-Man is. And, well, who Spider-Man himself is.

Everything goes by in a blur but you swear you see Flash Thompson talking to a bunch of different news stations with his signature slimy grin as you fly towards a sleek black vehicle. The man you’re with all but shoves you in and steps on the gas, beeping as he peels away from the school and begins the trek to the Avengers’ Tower.

You think you’re going to be sick.

***  


Peter sprints out of the school that day, not even caring to keep his speed in check. He flips over the gate without looking to make sure he’s safe, and sprints down the nearest alley he can before stripping to his boxers and sliding into the suit. 

He curses himself again, because he was supposed to install more web fluid in his suit, but last night’s situation and then today’s even worse situation caused him to forget. So now, there’s no way he’ll be able to web all the way to the tower, where the newest fluid awaits him, because of course he has none at home at the moment. And of course he didn’t think to whip up a quick batch in Chemistry.

He figures he’ll web as far as he can get, and then will hitch a ride the rest of the way. After all, not too many people are going to deny the Spider-Man a ride.

Then, he remembers that he needs to bring his backpack with him, because Tony needs help and he needs his notes in order to help. He figures swinging across town in a backpack would be a little bit suspicious, so he panics for a moment while he runs through his options. 

Ones that don’t involve wearing his school backpack blatantly on his back. He texts Happy a few million times to see if he’s in the city and would possibly be able to pick him and his belongings up, but the driver doesn’t find it in himself to respond, evidently. Just like the days before Homecoming.

Peter figures the guy should know by now that he should respond. Without any other ideas, the teen essentially decides to put the backpack on his bare back and then press the button to tighten the suit around him. 

It’s awkward and uncomfortable and he knows he looks like Quasimodo, but it works, so he begins to weave his way through the city. “Karen,” the boy addresses his computer best friend, “Keep me alerted to any and all Green Goblin activity you hear about, okay?”

“Of course, Peter.” The AI responds sincerely. With that in mind, Peter dives into his thoughts, most of them centering on Y/N and how you had finally kissed last night. It was as though years and years of tension had been erased, everything fell into place. Cheesily enough, it was sparks flying and fireworks pop pop popping in his ears.

He then lets his mind wander to the bad part of the kiss, the news station part of the kiss. He frowns deeply. “Karen, what have people been saying about Spider-Man in the news today?” He thinks aloud, worried about what the AI will stumble upon and reveal. As usual, she responds immediately.

“Masked Menace Making Moves’ and ‘Spider-Man’s Girlfriend: Here’s Everything We Need to Know About Y/N Y/L/N’ are the top two trending articles with the word Spider-Man in them today. Released by the Daily Bugle and-“

“Yikes okay. Uh, never mind Karen.” Peter comments as he zips through the city faster than usual. “Stupid Daily Bugle. That editor guy hates my guts, but he doesn’t even know me. I mean, come on, least he could do is get an interview or something.” Peter grumbles as the city begins to turn to suburbs. “What do you think Karen? I’m a good guy, right!?”

“Of course, Peter! You are the best guy I know. However, you are also the only guy I personally know.” The AI responds snarkily and Peter giggles despite himself.

“Real confidence booster thanks Karen.” He quips back and she responds with a very sincere and very robotic “You’re welcome, Peter.” Before quieting down and dissolving into a buzzer of sorts, alerting Peter that he’s essentially out of web fluid. He sighs deeply before climbing to the roof of a building. 

The tower is still blocks away, and he sighs again because this day really can’t get any more annoying. He descends down the walls of the building before surveying the cars below him to find a suitable ride.  


And then he sees it.

A sleek, window-tinted black car, speeding towards the direction he’s headed. The vehicle is making so much noise there’s no way they would be able to tell if he lightly landed on the roof and hitched a ride. As well as that, the car was definitely one of Mr. Stark’s, so he was safe either way.

“Well Karen, I guess there is a little bit of good in the midst of all this damn Parker luck.” The hero says as cheerily as he can muster. He then gears up to make the leap, a story or two below. He launches himself from the building, throwing in a few flips for the hell (he does have an image to keep up, he thinks) of it before landing with a bang on the roof, but the car doesn’t so much as brake. It keeps going, unknowing of the masked vigilante taking residence on its roof, or perhaps uncaring. “Who knows, maybe I’ll even get some calculus homework done along the way!”  


***  


Peter doesn’t notice that the car is completely soundproofed. After about 20 minutes of fighting through city traffic, the car squeals to a smooth stop in front of the looming Avenger’s tower. It still makes his heart beat at breakneck speed and his breathing hitch just looking at it.

As a kid, this was his endgame. All he wanted was to be a scientist, just like Mr. Stark, and maybe throw in a little bit of Iron Man as well. Every kid dreams of being Tony Stark in his generation, no matter who they were. Tony Stark and Iron Man were everywhere and everything; he decorated the textbooks they used year to year and the lunchboxes they carried everyday. 

Tony Stark was forever Peter’s hero, even if he didn’t say it to the man’s face. Peter was still awestruck every time the genius popped up in his life.

The young hero thinks this as he jumps from car to building before the doors can burst open and Happy can give him the inevitable earful. The teen scales the wall of the tower and slips through an open window on one of the upper floors, depositing him on the floor of one of the tower’s overwhelmingly huge rooms.

He takes his sweet time getting to the lab, doing a bit of exploring of the tower, stopping by the room Mr. Stark had promised him, moving his backpack from within the suit to on top of it, and then re-adjusting the suit because he knows if he walks down there Tony will never stop humming The Hunchback of Notre Dame around him. He hears the distant sounds of training going on, and perhaps even the voices of a few fellow-Avengers as he exits his room and makes his way to Tony’s lab, re-suited and comfortable. 

He literally explores floor to ceiling of the building, as he crawls across the ceiling towards Mr. Stark.Peter slips off his mask and decides he’s going to crawl into the lab and maybe finally get the drop on his mentor, who would ALWAYS say, “I got eyes on the back of my head, kid. There’s no sneaking up on the guy who can’t be snuck. “ He cannot wait to tell Mr. Stark about his day, and pitch his plans about how to help Y/N as he enters the room on the ceiling, his smile spread wide and his hair a curly mess atop his head.

“So, Mr. Stark, remember that girl problem we were talking about the other day, well-“ He says chipperly, throwing his backpack at Tony's head, but the man swiftly dodges it. Peter rolls his eyes, prepared to continue but he’s cut short as Tony turns, a shit-eating grin on his face as he reveals a very nervous and confused looking Y/N. The realization then strikes her as Peter makes eye contact, his face going white as a sheet and hers going redder than Peter thinks can be healthy.

“What the fu-“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha a little homage to homecoming in that last line there...
> 
> ALSO! a lot of editing went on here: I changed MJ's scene because I felt she wouldn't do something violent and would rely on her pure terrifying demeanor. as well as that, I am pretending the tower still exists because the next chapter needs them to be in the city, and mostly all the rest of the story does! I changed the beginning a bit to make it sweeter and more readable, and I changed a few lines and situations, adding and taking as I pleased!
> 
> As always, thank you for your feedback! It really helped me to make these two chapters undeniably better!!! Please check out chapter 6 as well, which is also newly updated! THANKS!


	6. He's Having A Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter-centric! Action-filled chapter!  
> This chapter mentions fires!!!!!
> 
> *6/13/18* JUST EDITED IT! PLEASE RE-READ THIS AS I CHANGED A FEW SCENES UP! only if u want to tho, mostly dedicated to comments requesting this! also edited chapter 5 today so read that too!
> 
> UPDATES: Thanks to @YankeeDoodle I added a little bit more anger and annoyance to the reader when she sees Peter, but since this is very Peter-centric next chapter will explore that more as well!!! I added a few little details and stuff, next chapter or two should be out within the next few days! Thanks for reading!

There is a brief moment of silence before the chaos ensues. Peter’s blood is racing so loudly in his ears that even his enhanced hearing seems to be failing him. He sees Mr. Stark looking at him with a slick grin, and Y/N looks like she’s about two seconds from launching across the room and beating the absolute shit out of him. The calm before the storm promptly comes to an end when Peter opens his mouth.

“So, Mr. Stark, do you like my cosplay?” He tries, but his voice cracks halfway through and becomes a soft whisper. And he’s also still staring upside down from the ceiling, like an idiot. Y/N begins to scream at him, so high-pitched and frantic that he’s struggling to make out words in his dazed state. She starts walking towards him but Mr. Stark grabs her by the shirt collar before anything drastic can occur. Anxiety flares in Peter’s chest and he flinches, moving forward before pulling back.

He figures trying to get her out of Mr. Stark’s grasp will result in a lot of pain for him.

“Mr. Parker,” Stark’s voice booms loudly as he looks at his intern with a bit of a flustered look. Tony reminisces on how he never would’ve used the word “flustered” to describe himself until he let this kid into his life. He shakes the thought. “I think you’ve dug yourself deep enough in a hole. Now is when you try to climb out of it using those little freaky spider powers of yours, as opposed to digging yourself deeper.” Tony looks at him pointedly and the teen sighs deeply, shooting daggers at the mechanic with his eyes.

“So, Y/N…” He rubs the back of his head after removing his glare from Mr. Stark. He looks sheepishly towards his childhood best friend, a nervous smile shaking across his face and his hands scratching fervently at the back of his curls.

“YOU’RE FREAKING SPIDER-MAN.” She bellows as she stares accusatorily at the teenaged spider. She shakes herself out of Stark’s grip and begins to march towards the wall-crawler, who is still perched on the ceiling, staring down from above with fear laced in his eyes.

“You’re friend here is the queen of observation.” Mr. Stark quips with a chuckle, recalling how the first things she said to him were along the same lines of, “you’re…”

“Shut up.” She shoots back, venom in her voice. Mr. Stark isn’t used to being necessarily challenged by fiery teenagers, but he raises an eyebrow and takes a step back. ‘Point taken.’ He thinks to himself, watching as he literally leaves the kid hanging out to dry.

“I guess I have the upper hand in this argument now… haha right?” His kid chuckles.

“Peter Parker,” Your tone is even and chilling, even Tony flinches back at it a bit. God, you’re like a mini Pepper; he shudders, hating this parallel he’s made. “There is certainly a lot for us to unpack right now, but let’s start with the obvious before I get into the deeply fucked up emotional issues you’ve caused.” You breathe and both geniuses cringe. “When were you going to tell me you were Spider-Man?”

“Ideally? Never.” Peter blurts out without a second thought. Mr. Stark smacks his palm against his forehead and mutters something under his breath as he averts Peter’s pleading gaze. The boy sees you begin to bubble over with anger, so he goes into immediate defense mode. Man, he wishes he had Karen to feed him some good lines right now… “Not because I don’t trust you, because I do. It’s just, the whole reason my identity is secret is so no one can mess with the people I love. You know, like how Mr. Stark got his house in California blown-up.” Peter gestures towards the billionaire, and sees your face soften and the redness begin to fade.

“Hey, kid. Watch it.” Stark barks out and Peter cringes, thinking about he’ll probably pay for that remark later. He shrugs it off and looks at Y/N earnestly.

“Honestly, I never meant for things to get this out-of-hand. I figured I could keep you safe if I walked you home and stuff, but obviously I messed that right the hell up.” He chuckles half-heartedly, making direct eye contact with you. “I’m going to make this right, I swear.” He nods confidently, Tony silently slips out of the room, figuring his work here is done for now, and not wanting to live a hallmark teen movie in real life.

Neither of the teens notices.

He watches from above as you clearly wage a war against yourself, unsure of your next move. 

“Did you mean it?” You say so quiet, it would be practically incoherent if not for the hero’s enhanced hearing. He looks at you quizzically from above, and then slowly lowers himself to the floor, his lack of spider-sense noting no malice in your intentions. You look at him up through your eyelashes as his feet make a soft thud upon landing.

“What?” He responds, cocking his head like a confused puppy. It’s so cute that you nearly lose your train of thought.

“You know… the whole…” You trail off, rubbing your arm and looking away. His realization is practically audible as he omits a soft “ooooh”. You roll your eyes at his comical manner of speech and look up at him, suddenly noticing that he has shortened the distance between you two considerably.

“Of course I did.” He whispers, and you look up at him, smiling slightly. “I thought it was pretty obvious that I have, like, the biggest thing in the world for you.” He blushes, heat rises to your face as well and you’re smiling at one another.

“I guess the feeling is mutual,” You laugh at his little celebration dance and a huge weight feels as though as if it has been lifted off of your chest as you stare at him and forget the problems of the day. “So, kissing upside-down kind of sucks.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, so I was thinking…”

“Say no more.” And for the second time in two days, you’re kissing Spider-Man. And also for the second time in two days, you’re kissing a masked Peter Parker. You feel safe and at home as you perch yourself on your tip-toes, arms slung across his neck as he pulls you in closer, hugging you too him. 

It just all feels so natural.

You pull away, staring up at him with a look of pure annoyance. “Don’t be fooled, I’m still really mad at you.” You say, and he winces a bit, but nods in understanding. “I mean, we’ve known each other longer than I’ve known anyone else. We’re best friends, Peter, we’re supposed to trust each other unconditionally.” You try to keep the winey tone out of your voice as you stare up at him.

He nods in understanding, flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes. “I know I messed up. I’ll take the blame on this one. From now on, no secrets.” He nods solemnly and you immediately extend your pinky without a second thought. He smiles at you cheekily before raising his own, gloved pinky and wrapping it around yours. You shake, sealing the unbreakable promise with a nod.

“Also, am I just supposed to uproot my whole life because you were too much of a coward to kiss me without the mask?” You say with a practiced coolness, trying to keep the icy venom out of your voice as you realize the severity of the situation Peter’s cowardice has caused. He rubs the back of his head awkwardly and his face goes bright red. “Because, I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty fucking annoyed that you-“

And then his lips are on yours and your hands are in his hair again and you guess it’s time for round three as you smile contently into the kiss. You won’t deny there’s still a silent, powerful anger bubbling in your chest, but it’s subsiding. You figure that after all of this, you and Peter can sort this out. You’re going to allow yourself some anger about this for a couple of days though. Especially because he flirted with you knowing full well all your feelings. And now you’re going to have to disappear from the face of the earth because he’s dumb as hell.

Suddenly, mid-kiss, Peter is peeling himself off of you and staring towards the windows of the lab, ears perked up and entirely alert. A shiver runs through his whole body and you can see it, but he doesn't seem to notice. You frown as he turns to you.

“I’m sorry, I have to go… I’ll be back.” He shoves his mask over his head and runs towards the drawer in his lab that holds his web fluid. He grabs a handful and shoves them into place in his suit, and then flings himself towards the windows, where he begins to slip out. “By the way, let’s pause this moment, and maybe press play on it later?” He calls out with a chuckle; you roll your eyes and nod as he disappears into the night-sky, the warm feeling in your chest hardly dissipating at all.

***  


Peter’s spider-sense interrupted him mid-kiss, and the sound of a distant scream greeted his ears. He listening closer, trying to hone in on whatever the situation may be, but a sudden telltale cackle revealed that the situation required immediate Spider-Man attention.

He reluctantly tore himself apart from the moment he had been dreaming of, and excused himself with a quip before swinging his way towards certain danger.

“Karen, have you heard of any recent Green Goblin activity?” Peter asks as he swings towards where the screaming seems to be getting louder, he can hear the crackling of something as well. The Green Goblin has been really asserting himself as a massive pain in the butt. He was always cackling his way through New York like a Goblin on steroids. Peter frowned when remembering their last meeting, and thinking about the large bruise he was still recovering from on the right side of his torso.

Someday, he would get tired of being thrown into buildings.

“No recent sightings have been reported.” The AI responds. Peter quirks his eyebrow up in disbelief, but continues to swing towards the sounds of distress, the smell of smoke beginning to greet his senses as his heart begins to sink.

The worst part of the Goblin was that he had no clear goals. He didn’t want to bring the downfall of humanity, he didn’t want to get revenge on the corporation and city that had wronged him, and he didn’t want to bring New York to its knees. He just liked to wreak havoc for the sake of havoc. He just hated Spider-Man.

Peter’s frown deepens when he begins to recognize the area. He can see the smoke billowing now, and he swings right past his apartment building, his Spidey-sense on full alert as the dark clouds of smoke cut through the skyline.

His frown descends into shock when he realizes that the building on fire is one he knows well.

“Karen, scan the building for people please.” Peter commands with a shaky breath, trying to fight what he fears to be the beginning of a sensory overload. “And sensory overload avoidance.” He mutters through closed eyes.

The devil works hard, but god dammit, Karen works harder. Peter sighs in relief as everything quiets down and gets darker. He thanks Karen as she continues to scan for any signs of life within the building, fear still dancing in the boy’s heart as he swings to the ground beside a fireman who’s losing a race against time.

“Spider-Man!” He cries in excitement, relief audible in his voice. Peter nods at him. “This is arson, no questions asked. We tried our best but I don’t think we’ve gotten everyone out, so…” The guy trails off as he struggles with the hose. Peter nods at him again, fire fighters are significantly nicer than cops are to him, but EMT’s are the nicest, he notes.

He shakes that thought out of his head as Karen reveals the information he so badly wanted to avoid, “I detected four heat signatures. All on the fourth floor.” Karen confirms and Peter curses silently to himself. 

“Thank you.” He calls out to both his trusty AI and the firefighter, who salutes him with a grim nod as the hero launches into the air and scales the first few floors before disappearing into the fourth floor of the burning building.

He coughs as the thick smoke fights to enter his lungs, and he muses about how he and Mr. Stark should work on some respirators for the suit. He climbs through the rubble of the building, the fire roaring aggressively, the smell of gasoline overcoming his senses.

“Hello?” He begins to call out in the hopes that someone will call back. His hopes are gleefully met when a weak cry from across the hall alerts him that the signatures are in fact humans. He begins to hustle through the wreckage, quick on his feet and soft on his toes as he side-steps his way to the victims.

He walks through the shell of a doorway to see three figures, huddled together in fear. Peter takes a few soft steps towards them before one of them releases an ear-shattering shriek, clutching the other two bodies closer.

“N-no do-don’t be s-scared!” Peter stutters through a fit of coughing, pushing a hand against his chest and bracing himself as he gets lower to the floor. “I-I’m here to-“ Another thick cough. “H-help!” He calls again, holding his hands above his head as he appears in front of the trio. His heart stops when he sees just who the trio happens to be.

An elderly woman, a young boy, and none other than Y/N’s mother. She’s clutching the two tightly against her chest, trying to shield them from the smoke inhalation that they’re no doubt suffering from anyways. Her face perks up a bit when she sees the hero, but she shakes her head in his direction.

“DON’T C-COME ANY…. ANY-“ She breaks off in a fit of smoke-heavy coughs, holding a hand up to stop the hero who clearly cannot take a hint. He closes the gap between them in a matter of seconds, lifting the young boy into his arms and hiding his face in his costume. He looks to the elderly woman and Y/N’s mother.

Memories flooded to him, of staying over late after May worked a double. Of getting picked up from school and hanging out in the hospital waiting room, raiding vending machines. Of tousling his hair and soft smiles. Of a single mother of two with so much to show for it. Mrs. Y/L/N had partially raised him when he had taken up residence in the Parker’s two-bedroom apartment. When Ben got caught working late and May’s shift overlapped, he would find himself in your equally as small apartment, playing with you and your older brother; helping set the dinner table and sometimes helping Mrs. Y/L/N with paying the bills (what? He had always been good at math!). 

He shakes off the sentiment and reaches his other hand towards his second (or third, he supposes as he mentally slaps himself) mother. “MA’AM, I’M GOING TO NEED YOU TO TRUST ME!” He calls, hoping she finds solace in his warm voice and firm hands. She shakes her head.

“HE’S COMING!” She responds ominously, but Peter doesn’t have time to think because suddenly, the wall where the doorway once was is crumbling, and the only way out is to venture deeper into the burning apartment. With a deep sigh and a soft please forgive me, Peter grabs your mother and the elderly woman. He pulls them both onto his back and keeps a tight grip.

Neither protest, but he can tell Mrs. Y/L/N desperately wants to.

He takes off at a sprint, feeling the soft and violent coughs erupting from the victim’s he’s carrying. It fuels him as his brain works on autopilot, heading towards the fire escape you and he had so often swung your legs off of while discussing stupid nothings. He grimaced at how that could never happen in this place again.

He closed in on the window, but just as he did the ceiling began to crumble around, and his spider-sense surged as he heard the heavy furniture beginning to creak as they fell. He pulled the two women off of his back and shoved the little boy into your mother’s hands. She looked at you, fear blatant in her eyes as she cradled the boy.

“I’M GOING TO GET YOU OUT.” Spider-Man nods reassuringly as he points a web at the two points around the window. He knows this is going to be dangerous, but he has no other options as his spider-sense pings again, and he feels the ceiling falling around him. “HOLD ONTO ME!” He calls loudly, walking backwards so the webs are pulled taut, so he’ll go flying forward.

Just like the Washington Monument.

Without hesitation, Mrs. Y/L/N grabs tightly onto the young hero, sandwiching the old woman and the young boy between the two of them. She looks up at him warily, knowing this is her last and only hope. She nods at him, putting on a brave face and muttering about how Spider-Man is going to keep the little boy safe.

With that as a signal, Peter lifts his feet off the ground so the quartet is horizontal to the ground, and breaks through the window.

He can feel the shattering glass cutting their skin, but he has no time to think as they’re already heading straight towards another building that Peter will only suffer a few minor injuries from, but what will certainly kill his companions.

He flips so they’re careening four stories down, towards the ground. He tries to ignore the loud screaming in his ears that’s coming from the old woman, and the guffawing of the young boy as he shoots a web towards the top of a stable building, shooting the four of them upwards and onwards. His other hand has a tight grip on the three people he’s protecting.

They land safely on the roof, and Peter nearly collapses from the exertion of it all. Mrs. Y/L/N immediately separates herself, pulling the elderly woman with her. The boy is still clutched tightly on to Peter’s suit, looking up at him through thick rims with a missing-toothed gape.

“Y-You’re S-Spider-Man!” He caws through a series of coughs. Peter nods down at him with a wink of his mask.

“And you helped me save the day! Way to go!” Peter crows in response, fighting the urge to cough with every syllable. He turns to your mother and sees her smiling despite it all, but still stuttering out a few coughs. The older woman is leaning on her heavily, depending on her for support. Peter immediately sets into action. “Right, I’ll lower us to the ground and you’ll get medical attention.” He explains as he collects them all into his arms and does just that.

The little boy will not put on an oxygen mask until Peter puts one over his mask. The boy’s name is Miles and he’s not little because he’s ten years old. He’s just smaller than the other kids but he’s a big boy. The old woman is Ruth, and she promises a handful of candies and some good tea whenever the hero next requires it. The two are pulled off on stretchers, the woman laughing as the little boy shows off the web-fluid the web-slinger had given him.

Peter turns and is met by Mrs. Y/L/N, looking tiredly as she sits in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a blanket with a oxygen mask on. The hero nods to her and she looks at him with a tired smile. “Hey, Spidey. Come here.” She gestures for the spider to come over and he obliges.

“I’m Y/N’s mother. I saw the papers.” Peter blushes beneath his mask and she smiles as if she can tell. “Keep her safe for me, alright?” She asks earnestly, holding on to one of his covered hands. He nods in response, unable to come up with a joke to lighten to mood. “I don’t think you’re quite the monster they make you out to be.” She says as he begins walking away.

“I prefer ‘Masked Menace’ actually!” He calls back. He hears her laughing and feels himself at ease.

“I am still detecting a fourth signature in the building, Peter. Do you wish to pursue it?” Karen interrupts his jolt of confidence and he jumps to attention, immediately beginning his scale upwards again. “Eighth floor.” The AI comments without prompting, and Peter nods.

“Thanks, Karen.” The hero mentally beats himself at forgetting the fourth. He really needs to work on his senses, last night he couldn’t hear a camera, and today he can’t detect a whole human being. “Weren’t they on the fourth earlier?” He asks as he climbs through the window the AI directs him towards. The top floors aren’t quite as smoky, but they’re still trembling from the hellscape below, groaning and creaking every move the hero makes. He gulps as he goes deeper into the building.

And then his spider-sense spikes, but it’s too late. He’s suddenly being thrown through a wall.

He crumbles, but quickly rights himself dizzily, not even taking a second to lament about his surely broken ribs. He has his web shooters out right as the perpetrator appears through the smoke and the giant spider-sized hole in the wall, like in the movies, the Green Goblin appears.

“Hello, Spidey.” He rasps with a slight cackle. “Are you enjoying the light show?” He asks again, his voice dripping with venom and a permanent smirk decorating his elaborate leprechaun-looking costume. Peter glares in response, ready to battle an attack at any second.

“Jeez, if you wanted my attention you could’ve just texted me! I’m a fairly available guy.” The teen responds with a snarky tone, glaring at the villain through half-closed eyes. The Goblin snarls laughter in response, his hover board inching closer to Peter. He eyes them both warily, his spider-sense a constant buzz at the nape of his neck.

“Well, the whole world is saying otherwise. You can’t fault a guy for being jealous, can ya?” Green Goblin cackles again and Peter tenses, already dreading what’s coming next. “Come on, Spidey. You didn’t think this building was chosen at random, did you? When I couldn’t find that girlfriend of yours, I got a little mad.” He laments, still releasing a burst of laughter at the end of each statement.

In a burst of anger, Peter dives at the floating monster, using his web-shooters to fling the guy, hover board and all, through the air and a couple of walls. The villain groans as he rises again. “Now that wasn’t very nice. Who’s jealous now?”

The battle rages on. Peter trying as desperately as he can to web him down long enough to at least discover his identity. The Green Goblin is quick, however, and alarmingly smart. He slices through the synthetic webs with practiced ease, and dodges a large majority of Peter’s punches and kicks, as if he too has a Spider-sense.

The young hero gets thrown through a few more walls before he hears the building let out a ear-splitting groan. He doubles over and is met with a slash across his face, cutting through the material on his suit like a knife in butter. He clutches his now quarter-exposed face and tackles his enemy to the ground. The building shakes again and Peter’s spider-sense flares.

Without thinking, he’s again diving through a window just as the building gives way. The Green Goblin, also visibly hurt with a half-working hover board is close behind. The villain sneers at the boy, beginning to drift away, avoiding Peter’s desperately shot webs. 

“Watch your back, Spider-Man. I’ll have you one day yet.” His voice is eerily calm as he disappears with the New York City skyline. Peter slumps against the rails of the fire escape he’s found safety on. His whole body aches and he can feel warm blood dripping across his face and down his arm.

With a groan, he rights himself; heading back towards Stark Towers, where he can only hope everyone is safe.

God, he’s really gotta stop getting himself into situations that involve crumbling buildings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates, but good old work and writer's block will do that to you! Also, had to get the Green Goblin in there somewhere, because I kept dropping hints!!!
> 
> I did kind of take inspiration from the original Spider-Man, with the house fire and the Green Goblin. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO: i just went through and re-wrote chapers 5 and 6! thank you!
> 
> Pls comment any constructive criticism you have! Love hearing from you all! Kudos are greatly appreciated!


	7. It's All In My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for lack of posting! good ol' writers block to blame for that!
> 
> also, i've updated chapters 5 and 6 so they're more coherent, flow better, and just make me feel more at ease with everything lol! give em a read!

You watch as Peter’s red-and-blue clad frame disappears deep into the city, so far away that not even your contacts can identify where he has gone. You try to push the anxiety that’s bubbling in your chest away, so you turn and let the anger begin to consume you.

You were stuck in this stupid fifteen minutes of fame with your stupid idiot best friend. You were going to be stuck in the Tower for God knows how long with no contact to the outside world, and maybe not even your family. Would they have to fly your brother home? Would your mom have to stop going to work? Your mind is brimming with questions like that. Peter, in one swift motion, had ruined your entire life.

Not only that, but there was the obvious inability to be publically dating Peter now, because that would raise too many red flags than they would be able to diffuse. You ball your hands in to fists and kick at a lab table, your foot blooming with immediate pain. You shrug it off, feeling a tiny bit better now thinking about how when Peter returns, you’re going to punch him as hard as you possibly can.

He had advanced healing, he’d be fine. Just a quick broken, bloodied nose.

Before you can fantasize more about beating up your best friend (and now boyfriend, you think maybe possibly? God this was all so confusing) Tony Stark is again bursting into the room. He doesn’t regard you at all, and instead marches over to some Stark tech and begins tapping away, until a holographic display pops up. You see a heart monitor; a temperature, heat signatures, time stamps, and all sorts of medical imagery appear.

“What?” Mr. Stark quips, clearly seeing you stare in awe. “You didn’t think I left the kid out to dry, did you?” He asks as he taps away, calling things out to something named FRIDAY. An Irish voice from above seems to continue responding to his childish queries. Suddenly, a live video feed pops up, and you can see Peter swinging through the air. His voice fills the room as he talks to someone who doesn’t seem to be there.

“Karen.” He keeps saying, and you try to push back the flare of jealousy that sprouts within you.

“Wait…. If you can do that… did you….?” You trail off uneasily, eyes flicking between the motion-sickening flips Peter is doing, to the large grin worn by the celebrity scientist. He turns to you with a signature Tony Stark knowing smirk, and your face dissolves.

So Tony Stark had witnessed your first kiss first hand. Awesome. 

Before the genius can say something that will undoubtedly be obnoxious, the click-clacking of heels becomes evident. Tony’s face blanches quickly, and he shuts off the live-feed, but leaves on the holograms of all of the vitals within Peter’s suit, which you find yourself kind of grateful for. You shoot a final glare at the billionaire and the door bursts open.

In walks Pepper Potts, dressed smartly as always with a warm, business-like smile adorning her face. “So sorry to keep you waiting, dear. Just had some business to wrap up.” She extends a hand to you and you excitedly taking it, still in awe that Pepper Potts, President of Stark Industries, is shaking your hand.

Pepper Potts was undeniably one of your heroes. She was smart, witty, and the only person on this planet who was able to tie down and wrangle Tony Stark. She had risen through the ranks, starting out as a secretary and using and abusing the patriarchy to become the CEO of the world’s leading technological corporation. She was the feminist hero you wanted and needed growing up as a child.

You had pictures of her cut from magazines, articles strung up on strings along your walls. You had done your fourth grade wax museum project on her, and had pictures in the strawberry wig to boot. She was the equivalent of what Mr. Stark was to Peter to you.

“You must be Y/N.” She says warmly, guiding you towards a lab table and having you take a seat. You nod, awestruck. She laughs a bit. “We have heard a lot about you.” And now you’re blushing for a million reasons at once and god this has been the weirdest day in your whole entire life and probably anyone else’s life ever.

“So, unfortunately I’m not just here to catch up.” Pepper starts, giving you a sympathetic grin. “I’m here to tell you what’s the next step following this disaster. I’m going to speak from both personal experience, as being Tony’s girlfriend has gotten my home blown up and me almost killed a couple of times-“

“Key word is almost. Focus on that.” Tony calls from across the lab, where he seems to be absentmindedly tinkering with an Iron Man helmet that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. Pepper rolls her eyes and you turn your attention back to her pristine and polished face.

“And professional experience, as Tony is the worst spokesperson and face of a major corporation possible. Although I’m the President, PR has become a huge part of my job, because Stark Industries is and always has been so controversial, and so wrapped up in battle with competitors like Oscorp-“

“NORMAN OSBORN CAN SUCK MY-“

“ANYWAYS-“ Pepper is screaming louder than Tony now, and you stifle a burst of laughter as you look at the yelling woman, her face beginning to match the color of her hair. “Here’s what’s going to happen next.”

Tony wanders over and stands next to Pepper, who warily eyes the helmet and her significant other, who’s clutching said helmet very close to him.

“Oh relax drama queen. It’s not going to explode.” He caws, Pepper turns to him pointedly.

“You say that a lot for a man who’s belongings are constantly exploding.” She quips back, turning to stare straight at the billionaire. Pepper is the only person in the probable galaxy that can match Tony without causing the superhero to lose his mind. Tony rolls his eyes, ready to deliver another quip when the redhead turns her attention to you, effectively cutting him out. “So there’s going to be a good bit of interviews, how do you do in front of a camera?”

Your face goes red as you recall your first and last attempt at acting; the fifth grade play in which you had one line, that you promptly forgot, and then fainted right off the stage, pissing off just about everyone stuffed into that sweltering auditorium. “I’ll manage.” You try strategically, Pepper smiles winningly and you know that was the correct answer… or as correct as you could get. 

“Fantastic.” She says as she types something quickly into her phone. “I’ll set up a press conference regarding the matter as soon as possible. Tony and I will be there for moral support as well; we’ll have to do some prep and-“ She stops, staring at her phone again. Tony scoffs loudly from across the lab and you turn to see he now has the mask on, and has a screwdriver rammed into it, sticking out of the faceplate like a unicorn.

“Sorry, work.” Pepper shrugs with a smile, and you can’t be mad because again… this is Pepper Potts. “Also, going to school is going to be an exciting experience. We’re looking to assign someone as your personal driver and bodyguard.” She gives a big thumbs up as if that’s a good thing, and you try to smile along.

Your life is never going to be the same after this. Stupid Parker.

Pepper opens her mouth to speak again, but suddenly the holographics across the room are going haywire. A loud alarm sounds and Tony stumbles over to the display, ripping the helmet off in the process. Pepper looks over with concern, and you can’t help but feel anxiety tying knots in your stomach.

“Hey, kid, what’s going on out there, huh?” Tony’s voice is even and relaxed, but you can see the anxiety drawn in bubble letters across his face. If Tony Stark is nervous, that cannot be a good thing. There’s a moment where the three of you are holding your breaths, tensed and saying nothing. 

And then a cough. “Fire.” Peter’s voice is raspy and broken up by coughing. You see Mr. Stark furiously typing away on his screen. “On way back.” He adds hastily, and with a fit of coughs, the sound turns off, and Mr. Stark’s typing is the only thing that fills the room.

“Don’t panic. I’m sure he’s fine.” Pepper says, and you’re not quite sure who she’s addressing, because Mr. Stark looks as worked up as you’re feeling. You find yourself unable to move, worried about what kind of trouble Peter could’ve possibly gotten himself into. You’d seen videos of Spider-Man getting his ass handed to him more times than you could count, and you’d seen him in action, graceful yet careless. You gnaw your fingers into oblivion and wait.

Tony is still plucking away at the screens, searching for things you can only guess at. Pepper is positioned between the two of you, her face torn into three as of what to do, but a third reserved for the careless web-slinger

And then, the window is bursting open and in stumbles a disoriented, scrambled Spider-Man. Dressed all in his superhero get up, Peter looks around frantically until his eyes lock with yours. Both of you stand, unmoving.

“So I’m all for puppy love, but, uh, kid… care to explain?” Tony calls out, and you notice that the genius seemed to have released a breath of air no one had realized he was holding. Peter really did have the guy wrapped around his finger. Speaking of Peter, the teen whipped his head around, straight at the billionaire.

He jumps into action then, and you can’t help but notice how he stumbles a bit as he walks. You frown. “We have to take this fight with the Green Goblin into our own hands.” He comments confidently, still wearing the mask, which causes a bit of confusion. The billionaire scoffs at his mentee.

“Not to be blunt, but do we remember what happened last time we took matters into our own hands?” Tony responds, causing Peter to flinch back a bit and Pepper to let out a distressed “Tony!” The engineer ignores the protest and walks towards his kid with narrowed eyes. “FRIDAY, scan Mr. Parker.” Peter begins to protest, but no one sides with him

“I have detected four broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and a host of smaller ailments including a laceration to the face and collar bone. Shall I delve further?” The AI faithfully responds, causing Tony to raise his eyebrows at the kid.

“No.” He and Peter say simultaneously. Peter folds in on himself a little bit, allowing the confident façade to fall into nervousness. You don’t like the look of that at all. 

“Listen, I’ll get medical attention after you hear me out, Mr. Stark.”

“Sorry kid, not willing to put your well-being on the line for some vigilante bull-crap. Mask comes off or I’ll personally call Thor from Asgard to hold you down.” Mr. Stark crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the teenager, who groans accordingly and rips off his mask.

It’s a canvas of blacks, blues, greens, purples, and reds. Pepper audibly gasps and Tony winces a bit, as if he regrets the command.

“Yeah, you see what I’m saying now?” Peter hisses out. “The Goblin is becoming a major threat, and he’s for some reason targeting me personally. “ His face crumples a bit and you notice that he’s avoiding eye contact.

“Why do you think that, Peter?” You ask, jumping in to strike the distressed hero in a moment of weakness. You look at your best friend and remember all over again the pain he’s endured in his life, as he looks at you through cuts and bruises with wide, brown eyes. His eyes can’t seem to meet yours.

“Yeah Pete, can’t go getting all hot-headed now. As the proverbial saying goes, the world doesn’t revolve around you, kiddo.” Tony attempts to bring an air of easiness to the lab room, which has become ripe with tension. You suspect that you could cut a knife in the room with how thick the air has become. The four of you stare at one another, tense.

“I need Aunt May, Y/N, and her mother to stay here until I can get this under control.” Peter ignores everyone else’s statements, and then in a moment of clarity he turns to you. “The Green Goblin… he-“ The hero pauses, wincing as if this pains him to get it out. “He set your….” 

“Spit it out.” Your hair stands on end as you cut the spider no slack. He looks at you, finally meeting your eyes and you can see the pain in them. “Your apartment, he set it on fire.”

In that second, you hate him. You feel nothing but spite and malice bubbling in your chest. You hate Peter right then and there because you can’t help but think this is his fault. You can’t help but think that if he had never lied to you about Spider-Man, none of this would happen.

Were you homeless now? And your mom, what would she say? Was she okay?

The room is silent for a second as you collect your thoughts, as you swallow back whatever curse or sob is desperately trying to climb up your throat and out. You look at the other three people in the room with wobbly knees and tearful eyes because your apartment was gone. Your childhood memories were gone.

The last place your family had been all together was gone.

“My mother-“

“Is fine.” Tony Stark cuts in, tapping away a message on his phone. “I’ve sent our friend Happy- you remember him; all sunshine and smiles, barely shuts up- to go pick her and the kid’s hot- I mean…. Cool Aunt. He’s getting them as we speak.” Peter shoots his mentor a grateful nod but the genius makes it a point to stay out of teenage drama to the best of his abilities.

“Well then, what the hell are we waiting for?” You clap your hands together. “They say the best defense is offense, and I’m about ready to beat the hell out of this goblin guy. So, let’s get cracking.” You supply as your explanation, Peter cracks a smile at you but you’re not in the mood to say something you’ll later regret to him right now, so you avoid the gesture.

And thus it begins

*** 

After you’re little boot and rally speech, Tony ushered Peter to the med bay, ignoring all ifs, ands, or buts. You were a bit grateful to be separated for a moment, because being around Peter now made your head spin. One second you were thinking about kissing him, the next punching him, and the next beating up whoever had hurt him

It was exhausting.

Your mother arrives sometime after that, she worries over you for a minute, but you quickly change the subject and asked if she was okay. She explained that Spider-Man had arrived before any permanent damage could occur, and then immediately asked how ‘my sweet baby’s vigilante boyfriend is, anyway?’ You blushed at that.

Tony then fed the two women a lie about how the Green Goblin was targeting people close to Spider-Man, and before May could ask why her and Peter were involved, Tony explained how Peter’s internship involved working closely with the vigilante, being his guy-in-the-chair of sorts.

He could tell May wasn't impressed, but neither of them had time to deal with that as Peter reappeared, a little bit drugged out, but much better looking than he had been just a few hours previously.

“So now what?” You question unenthusiastically.

“Dinner I guess.” May responds with a shrug, somehow unfazed even though she was in Avenger’s tower for reasons regarding the life and death of her and her nephew. “Stark, order Thai Food. I want somewhere good.” She calls.

And that’s how you end up eating Thai Food with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts in Avenger’s Tower.

*** 

Later that night, when you’re supposed to be sleeping, you find yourself wandering the halls of the seemingly never-ending building. Your bare feet pad silently on the floor, making an echoing sound with each step. You’re in nothing but sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt displaying some college you think you may eventually go to.

Pepper had wordlessly supplied you and your mother with clothes. You guessed because you had none of the clothes you used to. So now a new wardrobe was in order.

God, it was impossible to believe. Your home had been burnt to a crisp for no reason at all. People could have died, like your mother-

You refuse to entertain that thought, choosing to instead stare out of a floor to ceiling window, viewing the Manhattan Area in it’s nighttime glory. It was enchanting, the window-lights twinkling like stars, the far away unearthly glow of Times Square, the supposed hub of the city. It was kind of amazing to get this bird’s eye view of it all.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” You jump at the sound of another voice rudely interrupting your thoughts. You turn and find yourself face-to-face with the most confusing person in the world- Peter Parker. 

“It’s nothing like my fire escape in Queens.” You bit back harshly, turning away from the yellowing bruises and ragged scars that decorate his face. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but you can feel the heat of his skin just inches from you. All you want is to fold into him, to lean over and be enveloped by his warmth.

You want a warm place to breakdown because these past few weeks had been terrible and so had these past few years. Ever since your brother left and your mom picked up more shifts to help pay for school and-

“I’m sorry.”

It catches you so off guard. You blink back tears from your panicked thinking a moment earlier and turn, ready to quip out a snarky remark when he pushes on. “I was an idiot, I should’ve come clean.”

You pause for a moment because yeah, he’s right. He was 100% in the wrong and should’ve come clean. His stupid macho act of wanting no one to get hurt because of him was entirely selfish because know or don’t know, someone will always get hurt somehow.

“You’re right.” Your response is dry and short, devoid of all warmth because you can’t find the fire within you. Then you take a deep breath. “But life goes on.” You add as an afterthought, and in a moment of weakness you lean into him, trying to forget all the stupid drama now brewing between the two of you. 

At first he’s taken aback, but then he pulls you in closer. You keep biting back the tears as you fall into him, trying to find peace in his pajama t-shirt. Trying to find solace in his strong arms.

“And I promise, I’ll protect you.” He mutters into your hair and you let a tear fall because you know it’s true. You’ve constantly protected one another, you always will. “I’ll always protect you.”

But always is a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thanks for reading. unfortunately i'm starting to get sick of this story and am having a lot of trouble writing it. i’ve only got a few chapters at most left in me.
> 
> you know the deal: kudos, comments, yada yada yada


	8. How Did It End Up Like This?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will i ever proof-read my work!? tune in next chapter to find out!
> 
>  
> 
> ((spoiler: the answer is NO))

You’ve been living at Avenger’s Tower for a couple of weeks now, and finals season has dreadfully rolled around. You go from spending time exploring the building and observing different tech labs when Mr. Stark allows it, pretending to be more crotchety about it than he truly was, to staying parked in the lounge, homework and study materials spread about you.

Peter comes and goes as he pleases, which you envy to no end. The guise of the Stark Internship has May and your mother feels as though he’s constantly protected wherever he is. You know he’s still going out as Spider-Man, you follow the news stories and tabloids with your yearbook picture and some social media photos plastered everywhere.

The two of you are currently parked in the lounge, your respective guardians at work as you plug away at preparing for your chemistry final exam. You work in relative silence, Peter will make quips and jokes every now and then, but you don’t humor him with a response. He never seems to be able to separate seriousness from humor.

“We need to take a break… NOW.” The hero groans unbecomingly, slumping over on top of you in an attempt to get what he wants. You cry out dramatically as he sprawls on top of you, moaning all the while. 

“Peter, we need to STUDY!” Your voice is muffled beneath his frame and you can feel the vibrations of his continuous groans. It tickles and you continue to try to shove the superhuman up and off of you, giggling.

“No! We’ve been studying a l l weekend and I’m BOOOOOORED!” He cries out. “Plus, I’m not getting off of you unless you agree to hang out with me right now.” He huffs out in indignation. And you’ve been cooped up in this tower for so long, studying for days on end, unable to attend school because Flash kept calling “his sexy reporter source” whenever you showed up.

One time, Peter had to literally carry you and sprint to Happy’s car a couple of blocks away because some reporters were getting a little to handsy for either of your tastes. (That had led to a bunch of stories with titles like, “Spider-Man Who? Y/N’s Got A New Boy Toy” or “Ten Reasons Why Peter Parker Is A Better Boyfriend Than Spider-Man”) In your humble opinion, both of them were terrible boyfriends.

But you wouldn’t really know since neither your friend nor his alter ego would ask you out. Which was ridiculously frustrating because the two of you had continued having…. Relations since living in the tower.

“Fine. We can get dinner, but you’re buying, Parker.” You grumble unenthusiastically. Peter lets out a noise of pure satisfaction before climbing off of you and then pulling you to your feet. But, of course, since your life was turning into the cliché to end all cliché’s, he yet again underestimated his strength, and you flew straight into his arms.

“So, it’s a date then?” The teen whispers, smiling winningly at you. You roll your eyes and shake out of his grip.

“Yeah, cheese-fest. It could be a date if you’d stop being a little coward.” You respond smartly as you walk towards the elevator, prepared to head out. You go to push the down button but suddenly; strong arms are pulling you back.

“First off, ouch!” He calls out aghast, feigning hurt, as he looks at you with those unmistakable Parker patented puppy eyes. He continues then, still with an expression of hurt on his face. “Although you’re RUDE I figure I ought to tell you that Mr. Stark isn’t too keen on us going out alone together since last time-“ Peter grins down at you, his evidently very short acting career ending there. “However, he never said anything about you and Spider-Man.” Before you can conjure up a response, your friend is already undressing down to his boxers and throwing on his suit.

“So, am I going out with Spider-Man then?” You ask with a smirk as the suit tightens against his frame and he fiddles with his mask. He looks up at you and cocks his head, a crooked smile spread across his face.

“Well clearly you’ve got some kind of grudge against Peter Parker, so.” The teen shrugs and your heart melts a little bit as you take a look at him. He’s standing there, feet slightly spread apart and shoulders pushed back. He looks like he should be posing for some kind of poster photo-shoot. His mouth is cracked open in a smile and his curly locks are askew atop his head; the picture of adolescent heroism.

You catch yourself staring then, and both you and Peter’s faces glowing red at the realization.

“Alright then, let’s get this hot date going.”

“Let’s.” You follow Peter as he leads you away from the elevator and towards a semi-opened….

Wait….

“Oh hell no!” You exclaim, as you understand just what it is Peter is insinuating. He turns to you in that moment, already halfway out the window himself. “I am not swinging around New York escaping the Tower with you.” You take a step closer to him, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Don’t know if you had heard about this before, Parker, but I’m trying to keep a low profile, and this superhero scumbag keeps making that kind of difficult.”

“Oh you are going to regret calling Spider-Man a scumbag!” He cries out in indignation, reaching towards you in an attempt to pull you out after him.

And in that moment, it feels as if all hell breaks loose.

From above, an alarm starts blaring and the lights shut off, plunging the whole tower in darkness, the only lights being those of the surrounding buildings and the sleepless city itself. Suddenly Peter is gone and there is again no one around you, and you are alone in Avenger’s Tower with a strange alarm blaring and a blackout occurring. You feel your chest empty as oxygen escapes you, as the panic sets in.

“S-Spidey?” Your voice is a harsh whisper, barely decipherable beneath the sounds of the blaring alarm. Over the alarm, you can hear the sounds of what seems to be a jetpack of some sort and metal clanging around.

The sounds of battle, you worry.

“F-FRIDAY?” You then try, waiting for the A.I.’s usually calming voice, but it never comes. You can feel the beginnings of a panic attack coming on because you have no idea where the hell Peter is, never mind any of the tower’s other residents. You hear the distinct sound of a cackle, and then something cluttering to the ground and rolling. A sharp cry from outside penetrates the beeping of the alarms and you feel tears rush to your eyes-

It’s then that the bomb goes off.

The actual, literal bomb.

In that moment nothing else matters because all you can think is “holy shit I am going to die.” Because holy shit you are going to die. The glass from the floor to ceiling windows around you explodes in a dramatic display. You feel like you are moving in slow motion as you’re blown back, you go completely airborne, corkscrewing in the air as glass slices at all of your exposed skin. Gracelessly, you crash against the wall, and you can’t be sure but you think you can hear your very bones cracking.

You slide to the ground unceremoniously and see some kind of smoke beginning to surround you. Your brain is so foggy, you can’t think straight and presume that you must have some form of a concussion. Everything is muddled and you feel almost like you’re underwater. You can’t even gather your bearings.

Where are you again?

Crashing sounds pierce your ears, and that mixed with the alarms mixed with this god damn fog is making your head split to bits. You feel tears beginning to floor your eyes, and the dams that are supposed to be your eyelids can’t hold them back and you’re sobbing… but that makes your head burst worse and now you’re crying harder because god it hurts and why is this happening?

You try to suck it up for a second, and you watch as the smoke begins to get closer to you- or the fog you seriously can’t be too sure your brain hurts. In that second, that moment of unrelenting weakness and desperation, you almost do nothing.

You, yes, you almost decide to close your eyes and let the abyss take you, let what certainly has to be better than whatever hell this is take you. You want everything to fade to the sweet nothingness sleep will provide, you want to shut down your whole body- to let yourself rest once and for all because you sure as hell haven’t in god knows how long.

But then, there’s a cry of pain- an anguished, distressed cry from somewhere within the mist, and you know that you can’t stop. For whoever’s sake that is- you suppose it could be Peter’s. And you know that you can’t leave Peter alone, you can’t leave him out to dry like this- because you may not have chosen this life but he sure as hell didn’t either.

You rest your head against the wall and look upwards, collecting your breath. You brace yourself against the wall and begin to push yourself into an upright position.

It must take years, because your ribs are screaming and your ankle is aching and your head is so heavy it probably weighs more than a metric ton. You let out a shriek of a battle cry as you try your hardest to beat the fog and rise to your feet, and when you finally get upright, you stumble forwards.

You stumble towards the staticky sounds of a fight that sounds like it are happening below ground. However, apparently there was no need to, because suddenly a streak of red and blue is booking it past you, screeching something you can’t decipher as they grab your arm, spinning you.

You crumble at the touch, falling straight into the fog you had tried so hard to avoid. Because in the cruelest twist of irony it was Peter who had unwittingly worked against all of your hard work and bravery to plunge you into what you had so desperately tried to avoid.

“Seventeen fishes!” Peter says as he lifts you into his arms. That’s probably not what he says but that’s definitely what it sounds like. You don’t question it as you’re jostled and carried forward. You keep shutting your eyes, but every time you do Peter’s shoulder shakes you awake.

You figure that’s not a coincidence. But before you can consider it, someone is screaming into your ear and you’re collapsing onto the ground yet again.

But this time, there’s no one to pull you back up, and you let yourself fade deeply into nothingness.

*** 

Peter wishes that for once things would work in his favor. All he really wants is for one peaceful night, one night in which he can experience life as a normal teenager. He was about to go on his first date ever for God’s sakes. 

But Spider-Man business has a funny way of getting in the way of everything.

There was the explosion, of course. Peter was blown straight across the street, nearly splattering like a bug against a windshield below before catching himself with a web. He doesn’t think, he scrambles. He pulls himself back to the top of the tower, to where he was trying to sneak out.

He wishes he had- he could’ve avoided it.

His brain turns off as he re-enters the building, his mind focusing only on one thing-

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice desperate and raw. He doesn’t take time to worry about that, or about the pieces of glass that were probably being ingrained within his skin thanks to that healing factor of his. “Y/N!” He repeats, clambering through the window and searching.

Smoke begins to slowly overtake the floors, making everything foggy and distant, somehow. Even the ever-haunting sound of those alarms, the blatant emptiness due to the lack of A.I., the horror-movie red flashes… he felt as if he had entered a different dimension, as if-

The cackle… the telltale cackle. 

His spider-sense flares, the hairs on his arms rising at attention without his consent.

“The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout-“ The villain launches what’s meant to be a surprise punch at the hero, a punch that is effortlessly dodged. Peter turns at the now apparent monstrosity singing in front of him.

“Good one, green-bean. Haven’t heard that one before!” The hero quips in response, his voice still hurting, and his mind still swimming. He jumps to the ceiling, attaching himself to avoid the incoming fog, and for a better view of a search radius. The evildoer ignores Peter and continues to cackle, flying straight towards him, arms outstretched. Peter dodges it yet again, but his weird jetpack sort of thing catches the spider’s foot and he’s sent careening towards the ground. He lands in a sort of handstand and bounces back to his feet. But the goblin is waiting.

He strikes yet again, grabbing the teen by his neck and forcing him against the wall.

“Down came the rain-“ He squeezes his neck tighter and Peter claws at the hand, his eyes bulging out of his head, his spider-sense blaring which is no help now because it’s a bit late. In a moment of clarity, the hero lands a kick straight at the goblin’s stomach, and then manages to twist enough (somehow without cracking his own neck) to nail the guy in the throat. He releases Peter with a cry of protest.

Peter stumbles, leaning against a wall to catch his breath. He then takes off, sprinting as fast as he can towards where he figured he had originally come from- into the fog.

“Karen-“ He’s gasping for air now. “Respirators.” He gasps out, and Karen works quickly and breathing becomes a bit easier. And then he sees you, walking towards him. He can’t make out your expression in the odd lighting so he grabs your arm.

“Y/N STAY ON YOUR FEET WE GOTTA KEEP MOVING!” He cries out, but you’re in worse shape than you let on because you try to fall into him, but he’s past you by that point. Peter turns on his heel and collects you into his arms, trying to ignore the pang of worry he feels when he sees the already blatant bruising and scarring.

“Stay awake for me.” He says to you as your eyelids begin to slip closed. He begins to run forward, jostling you every time your eyes close too dangerously. He sees the broken window he had tried to sneak out just a few moments prior. The window that had symbolized teen rebellion and maybe even some form of forbidden romance, but now symbolized one simple word: escape.

How had he been so foolish to imagine that he could have one night to himself?

His spider-sense flares again, so powerful he nearly goes rigid. He tries to pick up the pace, he’s mid-leap towards the open window when something strikes him, right in the lower back. Suddenly he is hot and cold and screaming and shaking and electricity is coursing through them and oh sweet Jesus above he must be dying.

He falls straight into the fog, he feels pain spike al across his body and his whole body seizes from the pain. He tries to rise to his feet, because you are no longer in his arms and there’s that god damn cackle again. He tries to rise to his feet but his body is on fire and he can’t move holy shit why can’t he move? He tries to rise to his feet

“And washed-“ There are footsteps lumbering towards him and he is struggling to get to his feet, web-shooters raised. Someone steps on his right arm, crushing the web shooter with practiced ease. “The spider-“ His other web-shooter is crushed to dust. He tries to get to his feet because this is his fault and he needs to stop it. “OUT!”

And everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh a cliffhanger!!!! only a few chapters to go!!! again, kudos, comments, and everything else is greatly appreciated!


	9. I Just Can't Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao im so dumb i only posted half of the chapter last time. here it is INCLUDING the first half pls pray for me lmfao

When you wake up, you release an involuntary groan of unadulterated pain, because frankly, everything hurts. Your legs feel like they’re weighted down by three tons of steel, and your ribs feel battered and bruised. You can feel soreness and potential bruising from literal head to toe. No exaggeration- everything aches.

You move to stretch your arms, but feel your heart skip a beat when you realize they won’t move. Your first (stupid) thought is that you’ve been paralyzed. You begin to blindly panic, trying to work up the nerve to do something when everything comes speeding back at you.

The Tower. Peter. The gas.

You struggle again, and sheepishly realize you are not paralyzed, rather, your legs are tightly tied to the legs of a chair, your torso is also roped to the chair, and your hands are tied behind your back. This definitely isn’t the best case scenario.

You feel panic begin to seep into your subconscious and overtake your body, and unwittingly you let out a soft whimper as the gravity of the situation hits you. You try to collect your thoughts, ‘C’mon Y/N, you’ve planned for this exact situation before. Suck it up and get it together, first… try to gather your surroundings.’ You allow the bad scenario training you and Ned had jokingly forced yourselves to do (As Spider-Man’s guy-in-the-chair and love-interest, unfortunately you had to plan for these things).

Oh God, had they gotten Ned too?

With that horrifying thought in mind, you tried to figure out where you could possibly be. Unfortunately you could be absolutely anywhere. You were seemingly in the middle of some warehouse, adorned with gray walls and some crates here and there, just like you imagined any abandoned warehouse would look.

You chewed on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, still looking around in a vain attempt at finding something that could be of use- a knife? A cellphone? A Spider-Man?

You try not to let your mind wander towards the ladder, because the last you had seen of him had been like a fly post-date with a flyswatter, i.e. not very good. 

You continue to tussle with the ropes around your extremities, trying to keep yourself from thinking about anyone or anything, and biting back more and more tears with each passing minute. You let the deep-set fear you had been warding off finally collapse onto your chest, crushing your already broken heart. You stopped struggling.

Weeks ago, everything had been so much simpler. You were pining after a mysterious hero, letting your affinity for Parker try to sit on the backburner. You were still able to participate in school and classes, see your friends without the help of Stark tech screens. You were still just a teenage kid, and you got to act like it.

Now you were trapped in some random warehouse thanks to some stupid crush.

“Ah, finally. My esteemed guest has decided to rise.” Your blood runs cold at the sound of that eerily familiar voice, the voice of a man who has nothing on his hands but time and nothing on his mind but revenge and demise. You tried to take a deep breath and blink back any sign that tears had nearly been shed.

“Shut up.” You bite back shortly, annoyance oozing out of you. You glare at the green monstrosity as he comes into your line of vision, his hover-board discarded somewhere out of sight. He’s jugging some sort of weapon between his hands… it looks like a pumpkin?

“Oh feeling brave today are we?” The Goblin chortles. “Well, my dear. I plan on that ending soon.” With lightning speed he jumps forward and clasps onto the back of the chair your attached too, and begins to drag you backwards. You let out a yelp and try to struggle against it, but the villain simply laughs. “Do you think you can stay right here for a minute?” He asks, you hear him shred something and he slaps a strip of duck tape across your mouth.

You protest initially, but stop, as he looks down at you, the smirk on his mask more fitting than ever. He slowly raises something up to his ear.

“Hello, Mr. Parker.” Your blood runs cold.

***   
Peter wakes up in a twist of limbs. The smoke that had plagued his lungs had dissipated entirely. His whole body, however, continued to ache something fierce. He groaned from the immense pain, but didn’t have enough time to think about it before his heart jumped into his throat.

“Y/N!” He screams into the dark, empty floor of the tower he is on. The alarms have stopped but the red lights continue to blink, he figures he can’t have been out for too long, as there’s no angry Mr. Stark groaning over his destroyed home. He scrambles to his feet and tries not to cry over the sharp, shooting pain in his leg. He drags it behind him, hoping his super-healing will man up and kick in.

“Y/N!?” He tries again, desperation sinking into his tone. When no response comes, he lets the panic hit him. Because this was his fault and he had to fix it. He ripped off his broken web shooters in a fit of blind rage and leapt to action, running to the staircase and crawling down the walls towards the floor he had been staying on.

He burst into his room and fit the new web-shooters on his aching wrists before turning on his heel, ready to burst out.

“Incoming call from Y/N.” Karen’s calm voice essentially pokes a hole in his chest and sucks out all of the air he had been trying to harbor. He knows this can mean no good, and poised halfway through an open window.

“Track the location. Please.” Peter’s voice is gruff as he utters the next two words. “Answer it.” His voice is grim and final, and the call is patched through by his A.I.

“Mr. Parker.” Goosebumps make themselves a home along his arms as the familiar, aggressive voice greets his ringing ears. “It’s a pleasure to finally know who you are.” The Goblin cackles.

“Even out the playing field bud, how about you return that favor?” Peter tries to keep the fear out of the edge of his voice, but he knows the villain can hear it. Green Goblin laughs full-heartedly through the phone, as if Peter has suggested the funniest thing imaginable, as if he’s his own personal comedian. 

“Maybe some day, my boy. Hey, I know a kid around your age. I bet you would get along swimmingly.”

“No offense, guy, but I don’t think I’m about to take friendship advice from a bad guy.” Peter winces at the choice of words, not wanting to sound more childish than the Goblin now surely knows he is. He shakes it off and tries to focus on the bigger picture. “Now I can’t imagine this call is simply out of pleasure, or friendship, so- pardon my French- but what the hell do you want?” Peter barks.

“Mr. Parker, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” The man cackles over the phone and Peter tries to fight the anger bubbling in his chest. He wants to reach through his suit and punch the hell out of that guy. “Or your girlfriend?” Peter hears something muffled in the background and his blood runs absolutely freezing. He stops everything he’s doing as he waits. “Ah, that got your attention then. Mr. Parker, I have a proposition for you. It requires me, you, and a certain special someone to rendezvous on the Brooklyn Bridge.”

Peter gulps loudly, knowing nothing good can come of this, but also understanding he has absolutely no choice in the matter. He breathes deeply and tries to keep tears from pre-maturely forming.

“Fine. When.”

“Say, midnight tonight? I’ve always loved a good fairy tale ending!” His voice dissolves into laughter and Peter can hear movement on the other end, and the Goblin’s cackling stops abruptly. “But, Mr. Parker. If you try any funny business, like coming to us now, or bringing that little Iron friend of yours to this, your girlfriend won’t make it. Understand?”

“Loud and clear.” The hero bites back through gritted teeth, all out of comedic quips. The Goblin seems to recognize that, and he barks a laugh like he’s the cat who’s just caught the biggest, fattest canary of all.

“I hope you make it, son. I love a happy ending.” The line runs dead, but Peter can’t get that cackle out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only 1 or 2 chapters left! thanks for sticking along for the ride they should be up asap rocky!


	10. It's Killing Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lot's of action! again- not edited because i'm lazy and dumb!!! action packed chapter!!!!!!!!

The thing about the imminent threat of death is that it’s nothing like the movies. At all. It’s not a rush of calmness and acceptance, and it sure as hell isn’t a montage of all your greatest hits playing in your head to the tune of a Sarah McLaughlin song. Not at all.

It’s fear above all else- mind-numbing, show-stopping fear. A fear that has you trying to simultaneously puke out your guts and laugh like a crazed hyena. Fear that has tears pushing against eye-lids as aggressively as possible, and your body-shaking into oblivion.

Because the world is ending- and the thing about the end of the world is that…. IT’S THE END OF THE FUCKING W O R L D. And R.E.M. had it a thousand percent wrong because you DON’T feel fucking fine. 

YOU FEEL LIKE YOU’RE GOING TO EXPLODE.

But somehow- you don’t.

You are flying a couple thousand feet in the air, gagging over the side of an electric green hover-board, clutching onto it for dear life. Your brain is telling you to jump, because if you jump you won’t have to look Peter in the eyes as you die. If you jump now, you’ll splat onto the roof of a building below- but at least it won’t ring out forever in Peter’s head.

God, when did that happen? Everything being about a certain Parker all the time. This whole web of lies he’s thrown you into (pun intended). But everything makes sense because of course it’s Peter, because Peter always puts everyone with a pulse before himself. Because Peter is a good person and he wants the world to be the same.

Peter- who’s experienced more death than what ought to be possible at the tender age of 16. Peter- who’s letting himself get bullied by a nobody even though he can lift a jet bridge and hold his own with Captain Freaking America. Peter- who saved the decathlon team, who blames himself for Liz’s move.

You can’t save ‘em all, Pete. You think to yourself, somewhere between bitterness and laughter stuck in your throat. He’s going to come, but you’re not going to make it. And there’s something poetic in there somewhere, right?

Right?

You land harshly on one of the bridge’s famous towers. The Goblin discards you to the side for a moment, so you skid and surely succumb to a bit of road rash. You groan in spite of yourself and struggle to your feet, but everything still hurts. Your ribs are surely broken, which makes breathing an impressive chore. Your foot is swollen and your leg stiff. Your shoulder screams and your collarbone aches. Your head is swimming and one eye is nearly swollen shut.

And now you’re covered in road rash. What a vision you must be.

“This is a bit dramatic, even for you.” You call over the roar of the wind. The Green Goblin turns to you then, stepping off of his hover board and parking it, a bout of hysterical blooms from that. He moves towards you and stands directly above, his mask smirking down eerily.

“Well, call me Shakespeare then.” He cackles back in a horribly unfunny joke. You cringe and make a disapproving sound, but he either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, because he goes back to surveying the skyline, looking for a teenager clothed in red and blue.

You lie on your back, gasping for air, trying to look for stars in the city sky, because you might as well be cliché at this point. Or have you been cliché all along? Friends to lovers and unassuming nerd to hidden hero? Angry at the boy when it now seems futile? 

You bark out some form of a laugh again because this is a soap opera in the fucking making. You think bitterly of how had Peter just told you months ago when this had occurred, none of this would happen. But it’s Peter.

Peter.

You hear the Green Goblin screech with glee, and suddenly you’re being dragged to your feet. You push weakly against his vice grip, but you’re in no physical or mental state to try fighting him again. He pulls you until you’re practically on your toes, and his arm finds a home tightly around your neck- making the impossibility that was breathing no obsolete.

Through one eye, you see him. Spider-Man, your scandalous love affair, is flying through the skies, web after web. But you can immediately see that something is wrong.

He’s hurt.

And you’re going to die. 

Numbness.

Spider-Man flips to a stop in front of you, and you stifle a laugh. Peter Parker was the last person anyone would peg for a freaking acrobat. His cover for not being the masked vigilante was foolproof- he was Peter Parker.

“Ah, I was starting to think you stood me up!” The villain’s voice is grating in your ear and you cringe. Spider-Man- Peter- is staring straight at you, his mechanical eyes filled with something you can’t detect, something invisible. Or maybe impossible because they’re fucking mechanical eyes.

“Not quite feeling up to the banter today.” Peter bites back, something wavering in his voice, nearly undetectable but you’ve been best friends since god knows when, so of course you can tell. You shoot him a shaky smile.

Is this acceptance?

“You must be joking, Spider-Man is always up to banter!” The Green Goblin caws. “But perhaps…. Peter Parker isn’t?” Your stomach drops at that, because somewhere in all of this, you had forgotten that this evil monster knew. Anger sparks in you, because he’s just Peter. And in a twist of irony, you feel like you need to protect him at all costs.

“Ah, so we’re on a first name basis now?” Peter quips back harshly, his voice unforgiving. “Again, I find it only fair then that I know yours.” Peter tries, and the Goblin dissolves into laughter, backing up some, back on his hover-board so your toes are barely scraping the edge of the tower and below you is an unforgiving river.

Despite yourself, you let out a yelp of fear and grip tighter onto the evildoer’s arm. Because you are one movement away from a free-fall right now.

The hero is reaching towards you, and one-armedly you’re reaching back, fear dancing across your face, tears clouding your vision.

Okay, maybe not quite acceptance yet. 

“There’s that banter!” He screeches into your ear. But this is no longer a game.

“Stop!” In that instant, Peter sounds like a child. You would bet money he wears the same expression he always does when he talks about his parents or his Uncle- how he feels like he failed them somehow. You want to jump at him, to envelop him in your arms and pulling him close.

To tell him how wrong he is.

“Or what?” The Goblin’s voice is colder than it has been, calculating in a way you haven’t heard it before. Another bolt of fear strikes through your already aching heart, and he pulls back again so now not even your toes are connected to the tower of the bridge below.

“I’ll do anything. ANYTHING!” There’s a semblance of begging in Peter’s voice, and a flash from down below. In a dizzying nightmare you look down, and see a slew of news trucks down below, recording the whole thing.

You hear the villain muttering something to himself, but the eerie quiet that’s crept into his voice and the roar of the wind tells you otherwise. You see Peter tense up, and everything moves in slow motion as he dives towards you. You’re confused, but in your peripheral, you see the Goblin’s arm raised, and something sharp is flying at the hero.

Your hero.

“PETER!” You scream, because you’re sure the wind will take care of your broken voice before it reaches the reporters below. Something pierces him then, directly in the stomach. His hands circle it before he hastily rips it out, stumbling back towards the edge and collapsing in a heap.

You fight harder than yo ever have, ripping at his arms as you watch, for a horrifying moment, Peter unmoving. All you can hear is yourself screaming, screaming unintelligibly what was once a name but what is now simply a war cry. You kick and claw and punch and struggle, until your nails are bloody and your feet are numb.

“THIS IS THE END OF THE SPIDER-MAN!” The Goblin is yelling, cackling, and you know it’s in your ear but he feels a billion miles away as you stare, willing him to get up to move.

And then miraculously, he does.

“Think… you can get rid… of me.” He heaves himself to his feet, his breaths are gasping and his middle is still steadily breathing. You hear him muttering to himself, into his suit. “That… easily… green bean?” He finishes and the Goblin roars something fierce.

“Now,” He gasps again, hiding a cringe expertly, like he’s used to it. You hate that. “What the hell do you want?” He asks the Goblin with anger deep within him. He sounds like a child, but that’s what we are, isn’t it? Children. 

He turns to you then, his mechanical eyes wide and untelling, but his eyes are behind them and you envision looking right into them. Warmness blooms in your chest. 

But it is just as quickly torn away.

“I want the world to see what happens when they associate with Spider-Man.” The Goblin’s voice is harsher than it has been, no hint of laughter or playfulness within. He sounds almost like an honest-to-god villain. Like the real deal bad guy.

And then you’re falling.

Down.

Down.

Down.  
*** 

Something sharp is flying at him, and the vigilante has no time to think never mind move before it is embedding itself deep into his abdomen. He stumbles back, collapsing in a pile after ripping out the thing and haphazardly throwing it into the rushing waters below.

He lets out a groan, and his head is swimming but he can hear someone screaming from far away.

In that second, he wants to give up. He almost wants to succumb as opposed to facing the sick reality he’s been subjected to. He continues to force back groans and whines as he wills his healing factor to work god dammit.

“Peter, you need to seek medical attention.” His suit’s perky voice rings out beneath his mask. He blinks back the surprise and struggles to find a breath before answering.

“Yeah, I can feel that, Karen.” He responds shortly.

“I recommend seeking medical attention now.” She adds helpfully. Peter groans again, about to respond when the A.I. interrupts him yet again. “Mr. Stark is calling. In your current state I recommend you answer.”

“Karen no-“

“Kid, please tell me this mess at the Brooklyn Bridge does not involve you.” Mr. Stark’s voice fills Peter’s suit, and he groans in response because he can’t currently find the words to respond. “Kid?” There’s a nervousness in his voice, a fear that Peter would find humbling if he didn’t think he was actively dying. 

“Yeah it involves solely me.” The kid responds.

“I’m on my way-“ And before Peter can protest, the billionaire ends the call. Peter groans, feeling his extremities numbing as he struggles for breath, because holy shit he can’t breathe.

In a moment eerily familiar to the building-dropping-Vulture disaster that was last year, he mutters to himself, tears clinging to his eyes from the pain, tears he wills to never see the light of day.

“C’mon Spider-Man. C’mon Spider-Man!” He whispers, over and over, envisioning your face as he slowly stumbles to his feet, and towards the last person he ever wants to see ever again.

Peter is running on fumes at this point, and he can’t hear himself speak. His brain is running on autopilot and he knows he’s probably very severely concussed, but his eyes just focus directly on you as he tries to keep the wavering tone out of his throat. 

He finds himself unwittingly whining, wanting this to end so he can sleep and heal for the next year or so, but thanks to stupid Parker Luck, of course that can’t be the case.

Because you’re gone.

And he’s scrambling like he never has before, leaping with reckless abandon over the bridge and after you. He sees the flashing of cameras below, and he hears the gasps and screams of reporters and civilians alike, who’ve decided this nightmare he’s been living is a show.

But what gets to him the most is what the Goblin says next.

“I’ll see you soon, Mr. Parker. But in different clothes.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

But he has no time to think because he is diving straight down, his arms outstretched as he watches you plummet towards certain death below. Perhaps the worst part is Peter can’t hear you making any noise at all? He searches for a heartbeat but even his advanced hearing can’t do that.

He screams like a banshee as he falls, because you’re both past the bridge now but you’re still a good twenty feet closer to the water than he is. He figures shooting a web at you and pulling you up will end badly, because even in his panic he knows how a broken neck occurs.

He’s falling.

But you’re going too fast.

He feels tears flooding his eyes because there’s nothing he can do to prevent what’s about to happen. There’s nothing that can possibly stop the inevitable death both of you are soon to be faced with.

And in a flash of light- a miracle occurs. Because something is grabbing you, and then quickly shooting up and grabbing him, and depositing you both quickly on the sturdy ground that belongs to the actual street of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Iron Man.

Peter immediately collects you into his arms, hoping you don’t mind the blood seeping out of him. He has no time to think because he’s pressing you so close to him, and you’re sure the press is having a field day, but Tony is dealing with it because that’s what he does. 

Peter thinks he’s crying now but his body is numb from fear and pain, so he can’t tell.

“Y/N?” He tries tentatively, whispering. You grab onto his face then, as if to make sure he’s real and this is real life. Your eyes fly open because holy fucking shit hell FUCK.

You turn, looking into the mechanical eyes of the masks, wondering what those beautiful brown eyes are seeing beneath them. You caress his cheek quietly, tears springing to your own eyes because you’re in severe pain but at least you’re alive.

“You’re here.” You blurt out weakly, your hand moving along his mask, searching for something.

“And I always will be.” He responds, so cheekily that you groan loudly and he laughs. You stare up at him then, he’s kneeling on the ground, the top half of your body draped across him, your legs splayed on the concrete by his side. And somehow, in the throes of it all, you feel safe.

“Sorry,” You say then, suddenly, and his eyes narrow inquisitively. “But I have to do this.” And your fingers numbly find the edge of his mask, which you pull up to reveal his mouth. His lips are quirked up in a small grin, and there’s dried blood and bruising decorating his skin.

But you don’t think about it, because with your last bit of strength, you pull yourself up and your mouths connect, while he holds you in his strong arms.

You hear Tony Stark say something snarky about teenage hormones, and you hear the coos and guffaws from the now creepy group of onlookers but you don’t care.

Let the press have a field day for all you care. Because you are the safest girl in the world right now, and nothing can stop you from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter left!!!! probably won't be very long but a little thing to wrap it all up! i hope you enjoyed guys!!! please comment and stuff!! all the kudos and comments and bookmarks are so greatly appreciated!!!! thank you!!!!!


	11. Open Up My Eager Eyes

You have become accustomed to the flash of a camera at this point. Something you now readily accept to admit, no matter how bad you don’t want to.

But you grin and bear it, just like you are now, mid-press conference.

The trick to press conferences is never really answering questions fully. As well as that, to always present yourself as kind of innocent and lovable. Yes, by the way, you are also quite used to press conferences by now. Something your mother thinks will be great for college applications- forget the letter of rec Mr. Tony Stark had promised to provide.

“Y/N! Y/N!” A flock of journalists caw your name, something you can never find yourself getting quite used to. People calling your name hasn’t boded quite well in the past. But again, you grin and bear it because this is just perks of the job now, baby.

“You! With the glasses- oh crap, that’s literally half of you,” You pause for the smattering of laughter you’re sure you’ll receive, and you readjust your sling before trudging on. “Freckles, pink blouse. You.” You smile again, and the familiar journalist winks in response. Yes, because journalists are familiar now.

It’s a weird situation.

“So, Y/N, how’s the recovery process going? I mean, I know it’s been a few weeks, but you were not only kidnapped, but nearly killed? How can you look so… well… you!” The journalist calls out and you regard her with a warm smile.

“It’s been hard.” Understatement of the fucking century. “But, thanks to Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, and the wonderful team of friends and, well, co-workers I have backing me, it’s been practically painless. I really can’t thank Stark Industries enough for what they’ve brought me.” Press conferences are also filled with big lies and little truths. You search for a pair of familiar brown eyes.

A few journalists mutter at that, and you hear the tell-tale scratch of pens on paper that means your response was good. You shoot a shaky smile at Pepper, who gives you a big, two thumbs up in response. Because YES you’re officially freaking friends with….

Pepper FREAKING Potts!!!!! God, every time you say it your heart basically leaves your chest. 

After the accident, after the days in and out of consciousness and the crying and berating and scolding and unimaginable pain, Tony Stark had ambled into your room, almost as if by accident.

Your mother was stationed by your side, flipping through a book half-heartedly, mostly focused on you. Peter, Ned, and MJ were positioned across the room, pretending to do homework on a small table but mostly teasing each other. Ned audibly gasped when the billionaire walked in, MJ rolled her eyes, Peter stood at attention, and your mother blushed a grin.

The typical Tony Stark response array, you figure.

“Well, you don’t look half-bad.” You suppose it must be a compliment, because you could hear Peter and Ned dissolve into giggles, and MJ mutter something protective.

“You could say that, I guess.” You responded with a painful shrug. You had only been in the hospital for a few days, so all your bruises were still fresh and your bones creaked painfully.

“Yeah, well. We can’t all recover as pretty as I do,” The genius batted his eyelashes at you and you had scoffed, borrowing MJ’s trademarked eye-roll. She nodded at you in approval at that. Your mother barked out a hysterical laugh. Because of course she was in love with the guy. He grinned appreciatively at that, but turned his attention back to you. “Well, I liked the guts you had out there, bud, and underoos over here barely shuts up about you-“ Both you and Peter burn red, and MJ coos suggestively. “And, I was thinking. I’ve seen your brain these past few weeks, but I’d love to pick it more. You wanna be an intern?”

And that had changed your life. You were living in Avengers Towers for now anyways, waiting for your mother to decide whether or not to move back to Queens or to move across the country to be with your brother. You didn’t like to think about the latter.

Now, you were an official intern. Something newspapers and other media organizations constantly harped on. That also meant more face-time with Peter, which only Mr. Stark was complaining about.

You’re forced back to the present when another reporter is barking a question at you. You brush a stray hair behind your ear; careful not to bother the fading black eye you still sported after a while.

“How does it feel knowing the Green Goblin is off the streets?” A reporter barks out hastily. You cringe impulsively at the mention of the name but soldier on.

After the bridge incident, both Spider-Man and a team of interns located at Stark Industries (yourself included, of course) had worked tirelessly to discover who the villain was, and then they finally uncovered some rather disturbing past experiments from Oscorp itself. Well, let’s just say Norman Osborn is going to be in prison for quite some time now.

“It’s a weight off my shoulders.” You smile, trying to not remember how Peter had shown up half-dead in the tower that night, dragging a disgruntled businessman practically drowning in the outfit. You tried not to remember the darkness in his eyes when it was revealed that the guy was nearly dead. “And a big thanks to Stark Industries for that as well.” You let out. Pepper notices your discomfort and chooses another reporter to ask a question.

Someone is speaking loudly but you can’t hear. Mr. Stark jabs his fingers into your uninjured arm and makes a face as if to say ‘head in the game, bud.’ You shake yourself from your thoughts and grin sheepishly.

“Uh, sorry, can you repeat that?” You blurt out with a blush. You can hear the unappreciative response from the host of reporters spread around you, but one solid glare from Mr. Stark stopped that nearly immediately.

(“You’re my intern now, bud, so of course I guess I have to take care of you. Plus, if they rip you to shreds out there, it’ll look really bad for the company” was what Tony had assured you the first time he had nearly blasted a reporter who had launched you into a panic attack.)

“No worries, it actually kind of goes with the question.” The reporter chuckles back with a warm smile. Some of them were so nice- the regulars- always knew how to treat you with care. You were a child after all. “What does this spell for you and Spider-Man now? There’s been no recent sightings of the two of you, so do you just resort to daydreaming about him mid-conference?” The reporter jokes and again your skin flares. You see Mr. Stark’s mouth quirk up into a grin of sorts before he rolls his eyes because those teenage kids he is forced to work with are gross.

“Spidey?” You ask with a small smile. Your eyes roam the crowd before setting on a pair of puppy-dog brown eyes. Your quirk an eyebrow and he wiggles his both. You giggle before searching the crowd again, not quite letting your eyes settle on anyone else. “I think it spells out something good. If you guys aren’t seeing us, we’re doing a much better job than I thought.” You wink suggestively and everyone has something to say about that.

Reporters begin to scream questions at you, but their time is up, and the press conference is over. Mr. Stark and Happy lead you towards the back door as you wave out goodbyes, smiling between the two older men as they try not to let your infectious happiness take hold.

Because somehow this is life now. And you guess that’s okay. As long as there’s a certain web-slinger by your side.

*** 

Hours pass and you’re nearly falling asleep in Mr. Stark’s lab. You’ve been working with different equations he had left you to practice with, while simultaneously reviewing the notes he had left you for his next project (and definitely ignoring the notes he had helped you and Peter with for that online chemistry test you still had to make up).

No one except for maybe Ms. Potts can tear you away from that lab. You figure Peter would spend every waking moment in there too if his aunt let the Stark Internship consume him the way he had wanted it to this summer. She still requested he was home every so often to actually spend time with her, and the nervous Spider-Man side of him rarely let him leave anyway.

Not every night, though.

“Miss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s sweet voice pipes up, filling the entire room with her robotic ease.

“Yeah FRI?” You responded, erasing a variable and replacing it with another, grinning delightedly because you had finally solved it! You smiled up at the ceiling, where the A.I.’s voice always came from.

“Mr. Parker requests your presence in your room.” You quirk your eyebrow at that, because one of Tony’s first rules was: “and please, for the love of all things holy, do not be partaking in any weird teenage funny business under my roof. In this house of a god!” Both you and Peter had solemnly promised him that, but you both had your fingers twisted in knots behind your back.

Somehow, Tony and Pepper and Ned and MJ were the only people who knew you and Peter were…. Dating? Together? Damn, even you don’t really know. 

You ponder all of this as you unknowingly limp towards your room. Taking the elevator and begging F.R.I.D.A.Y to NOT inform Mr. Stark the entire way. The A.I. begrudgingly agreed, but everyone knew she would tell Mr. Stark at some point anyways. Peter was convinced the genius had a protocol for every instance in his life.

You walk into your room and immediately smile. Peter is standing by your side, wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a smile as he greets you at your own door. Behind him is what seems to be a picnic, with poorly made PB&J’s and a bottle of sparkling apple cider.

“I, uh, I forgot I don’t know how to cook.” He flushes instantly as you wrap him in a one-armed hug. Your hands find each other and you walk towards the small set-up, smiles dawning both of your faces. “Good job today, by the way. Still don’t know how you manage to…. stand in front of all those people and, well… talk. About your PERSONAL LIFE!” You laugh at Peter’s awe. He’s so cute you nearly die.

You lean into him and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I do it for my fans.” You wink, before unwrapping a sandwich and taking a bite. The jelly has somehow managed to dissolve into the peanut butter, so it’s really a peanut butter sandwich with a weird consistency and a grape-tinge, You eat it because he made it, and you smile appreciatively. 

“Oh, we’re your fans now, huh?” He jokes back, chewing on his own dinner and grimacing. “I really shouldn’t be allowed in a kitchen.” He comments with a cough, setting down his sandwich and gesturing for you to do the same. You’re grateful for that, because your tongue is starting to stick to the roof of your mouth.

“It’s truly the thought that counts with you, Parker.” You grin and he feigns hurt. You both laugh and you fall back into his chest, smiling. Because he’ll always catch you.

The next few hours are spent between stolen kisses, aggressive card games, banter, joking, smiling, and glasses of sparkling cider, bubbling in your chests. You snuggle in closer to Peter and smile wider, an evident lull in the conversation occurs right then.

He cards his fingers through your hair and you can feel him sigh against you. He presses a kiss to your hair and you smile sleepily. You can never fall asleep on your own anymore, but Peter is intoxicating. You can sense he needs to sleep just as badly as you do.

“About what you said earlier…” You’re half-asleep when he speaks up again. You feel him shift uncomfortably beneath you as he lifts you, bridal style, carrying you towards your bed. Empty glasses of sparkling cider and untouched sandwiches forgotten behind.

“Yeah?” You manage warmly, smiling at him as he climbs in beside you on the bed. You cuddle up against him and he does the same, rubbing soft circles in your back and pressing soft kisses against your forehead.

“About- well, about Spider-Man, and it being…. Good and stuff…” He trails off again nervously, and you open your eyes, looking deeply into his dark brown ones with nothing but affection. “Is it?” He asks.

A moment passes.

“Yeah, I guess.” You respond. You feel him frown at that, but before he can ask another nervous question, you plow on. “But things with Peter Parker? Well, they’re fantastic.”

He kisses you with a smile on his face after that, and he pulls you closer into him. And this must be what love feels like, as you fall asleep side-by-side, kiss-by-kiss.

And even though these past few months have been hell, you’re figuring that Imagine Dragons lyric had it right, because this must be heaven, wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms (your longtime crush at that!), feeling safe, secure, and loved.

How could it end up like this? You wonder.

After all, it was only a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you a million times over for sticking with this fic! and reading it too (lol)! This was a huge challenge for me as it was my first second-person work, so thank you for bearing with me! Sorry for all the writer's block and stupidity!
> 
> Anyways, this isn't the last you've seen of me! I'm working on (a few?) other fic(s) right now and I cannot wait to post them! Definitely gonna take a breather from the Spider-Man/Reader world for a minute, just because I'm not incredibly well-equipped at delving into it further at the moment, and because I'm not too sure I want to.
> 
> Lol. But thank you again! So much! For this amazing ride! thanks for taking it with me! Again, your comments, kudos, and bookmarks make my world go round, so please keep 'em coming!
> 
> I leave you with this last killers line: and they're going to bed
> 
> Because that's what I shall do!


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